Homeless Maddy - The Novel
by AlessNox
Summary: A condensing of all of the Maddy stories into one edited omnibus. Maddy meets the man in the black coat and gets a job. The tale of a member of Sherlock Holmes' Homeless Network, and how this changes her life forever. Not season 3 and 4 compliant
1. The man with the coat

**Foreword:**

 **Maddy is dear to my heart. I thought that if any of my stories are worth revising, this one is. I am rewriting all of the Maddy stories into one work, one novel. I will make changes that I hope will make it better. I greatly appreciate your help in this process. Any comments that you can give me, critical or supportive, will make it more likely for me to finish this work. The Maddy saga stands at 120,000 words. I hope to make it a little shorter, a little more compact and a little more biting. Hopefully at the end, it will be something that we both can love. I begin with a quote from Neil Gaiman.**

" _On your second draft, you buttress the stuff that makes that theme work. You chip away at anything that detracts or distracts from it._ _Also, you try and read it for the first time, pretending you are a reader. You fix anything that would irritate you-as-a-reader. You write the bit you were sure you could skip as a writer, but you-as-a-reader wants to see. You trim the bits where you-as-a-reader found yourself wanting to skip, or wishing the author would just get on with it._ _You make it better."_

Neil Gaiman

.

Homeless Maddy

They say if you sit at the right spot in London at the right time of day, you may meet the rich guy in the black coat and make some money. He'll ask you to do some simple job or find out some information and then slip you the notes. Sometimes it's twenty pounds, sometimes fifty. Someone once made _two hundred pounds_ for finding a green camera bag thrown away in a bin.

Maddy can use a little money today, so she sits at the corner even though she thinks that meeting this guy is about as likely as meeting Santa Claus. Maddy needs the money because she spent most of hers the day before, and the pack of biscuits that she had saved for dinner is over half gone. She isn't completely broke, not yet. She has some money in her pocket, but it's the kind that jingles, not the kind that folds.

She has almost decided to give up and look in the bin behind the Chinese restaurant for some day old dumplings when she sees him, a tall man with curly black hair striding down the sidewalk. At first she thinks that he will pass her by like everyone else on the street, trying so hard not to see her too-thin arms, tattered shoes, and worn clothing, but he walks over and sits down beside her, staring at her with a glare that makes her begin to believe that she isn't actually invisible.

"Hello," he says. "What is your name?"

"Maddy," she says. "You are that man, aren't you. The rich man in the black coat?"

"I'm not rich," he says, "but I am richer than you. Do you think that you could help me, Maddy? I'll pay you."

"Okay, but I'm not sellin' nothing. I don't sell drugs or my body if that's what you need, and I don't hurt no one, but I could use some cash, yeah."

"I'm glad to hear that you have some convictions, but I could tell that by your necklace and your right glove. Here," he says handing her a fifty pound note wrapped around a scrap of paper. "Report back to me at 221B Baker Street. Find this, and there may be more work for you later."

The man stands and glides down the walk. He raises his hand to stop a car and escapes in a taxi. For someone like Maddy, that is as mythical an exit as any sleigh pulled by reindeer. She looks at the note. It looks real enough, and fifty pounds means a good dinner and a warm place to sleep tonight. The scrap of paper reads:

 **White rain boots, Slippery Joe's sausages, and a pair of brown haired dogs (beagles) all on the same street.**

It is the weirdest list that Maddy has ever seen, but for fifty pounds she'll find it, even if it takes her all night.


	2. White rain boots, Beagles and Sausages

The key to it all was the sausages.

Maddy likes sausages. Before she came to London, she was mad about them. Granddad, God rest his soul, had been German. He used to make sausages. When she was too young to know about drug dealers and prostitutes she knew what cuts of meat made the best sausages. She knew that it was a rooky mistake to cut the meat too close.

" _One bone in the tooth and they lose trust in you,"_ he'd said, _"And once they lose confidence in the sausage, it will never again taste as good to them."_ She had never, not once, found a piece of bone in his sausage.

Maddy knows the importance of seasoning and the different amounts of grinding that you need to make different kinds of sausages. Granddad's sausages were "chunky". He said that a sausage needed to have a bit of texture to it. Most of the sausages that she has eaten since her arrival in London have disappointed her, but Slippery Joe's is a restaurant chain that knows how to make a good sausage.

Maddy tried to get a job at a Slippery Joe's once. They had looked her over and turned her down without even offering an explanation. She still likes their sausages though, chunky if a bit under-spiced for her taste.

There are five Slippery Joe's in London. She hangs around the front of them until she is driven off, sometimes by the owners, sometimes by the bobbies who glare at her reminding her that loitering in a public street is a punishable offense. She moves along.

While walking slowly past the third Slippery Joe's, she hears a bark. She turns to see, further down the road, a pair of brown beagles coming out of a jewelry store. The little dogs are held by an elderly lady wearing a blue coat topped with a black fur collar. They walk slowly past Maddy, one dog sniffing at her feet before the woman pulls it along. She looks back at the jewelry store wondering momentarily if she should go in, but although she could last for ten minutes inside of a Slippery Joe's before they ask her to leave (homeless people do buy food occasionally) it is unlikely that she will even get past the threshold of a jewelry store before the police are called on her. So, she turns to follow the woman with the dogs.

The old woman moves down the street slowly, letting the dogs sniff cars and people and pee on the lampposts. Maddy has to stroll behind her looking in store windows to make it seem as if she doesn't have a purpose. That's when she sees the display: a mannequin carrying a rainbow colored umbrella and wearing red rain boots. Behind it on a rack are a host of rain boots in different colors including white.

A smile cracks Maddy's lips. She places her face against the glass and kisses it, so happy for a moment that she has solved the puzzle that she almost doesn't notice that the woman has turned a corner.

Maddy breaks into a run stunning a couple by rushing between them and getting a few choice words yelled at her back that will be sure to reflect badly on the S.O.B. if there is any _karma_ in the world. Maddy is still optimistic enough to believe in _karma_ even if she doesn't believe in fairness. Those bad words will come back to that man later when he sits in a pub with that girl drinking. She'll look at his smiling face as he takes a sip of beer and wonder if those bad words will be said to her if she should ever choose to end it with him, and after realizing that they will be, she will decide never to begin at all.

Luckily, the old woman is slow. One of the dogs pees on a brown brick fence before she pulls it along into a building. Maddy wars with herself walking up to the fence and back two times before she decides to risk entering the yard, because the door has a glass front and there is no doorman to scare her away.

She looks through the glass at the woman who unlocks her post box, a pink rabbit's foot keychain dangling from the lock. She removes her mail, slamming the door shut, but the door to the box catches. She tries pushing it closed, but the edge juts out stubbornly, so she leaves it and turns back toward Maddy who slides to the side, hiding. One dog barks at her, but the old woman pulls him away shuffling into the lift. Then the doors close behind her with a ding. Maddy rushes into the abandoned lobby and looks at the half-closed post box. The room number is 215.

Paper and pen are a luxury that Maddy doesn't have, so she repeats the number to herself to remember it. She makes up a song on the spot singing:

TWO FIFTEEN

SHOES WASHED CLEAN

SAUSAGES CUT TRUE AND LEAN

As a song, it isn't that great, but it will last until she can walk the long way to Baker Street. She doesn't take cabs, and she doesn't like the underground. She might occasion a bus, but walking is safer, and she might be able to make some spare change along the way.

She regrets her decision when Mug catches up to her at Waterloo bridge. He grabs her arm roughly and says, "Word is that you've been touched by the rich man in the black coat."

"What do you want?" she asks in a voice braver than she feels.

"People who get lucky breaks ought to be generous."

"Like you were when you found that stash of money in a skip last month? I never saw a **_p_** , of that. You didn't give me nothin' although there was more than enough."

"But there's a difference."

"What's that?"

"The difference is, you owe me."

"I don't owe you the time of day," Maddy says finally pulling out of his grip and trying to look confident as she walks briskly away. Mug runs after her and grabs her with both his hands. "You let me go!" she screams.

Mug wraps his arms around her holding her arms to her sides as he looms over her, his breath on her neck. "You don't know what I do for you," he says in a voice low and sharp. "I let you live on my street, and I don't ask for nothin' but I could, you know."

Maddy turns in his grip and pushes him away stepping back three full steps yelling, "Your street? You don't own it. You are just a bully!"

"I don't know what kind of sheltered life you came from, Princess, but there ain't nothin' free. When you get money, you give it to me if you know what's good for you. There are other ways that I could take it out of you, but I don't. I like you. You remind me of my little sister, so I let you stay for nothin', but when you get something, you give it to me."

"No!" Maddy says walking away.

Mug catches her arm and pulls her back. A woman turns to stare at them, so Mug smiles and puts his arm firmly around her neck as he leads her down under the bridge where no one can see.

With her back pushed against the cold concrete wall, the stubble of his chin rubbing against her forehead, they might be any couple sneaking away for an afternoon snog, but Mug's hands hold her wrists tightly so that she can't get away. He reeks as if he hasn't washed for days, which is most likely true.

"Maddy," he growls at her, "You're a thin, ugly little thing, but don't think that makes you safe. There are people who take girls like you and lock 'em up in a room with nothin' but a bed and too few sheets to hang themselves. There are some men who even enjoy bouncing up and down on a pile of bones like yourself, and they don't care if you break, so don't act like there aren't worse things than enjoying the benefits of my protection." He puts one hand against the wall beside her head, and with the other, he touches the inside of her thigh.

Maddy twists under his arm, backing away as she pulls the money out of her pocket and throws it on the ground. "Take it!" she screams. "Take the money and enjoy it. You never gave me nothin' but a headache and a bruised arm in all of the time that I've known you, and you ain't getin' nothin' else from me ever again!" Then she turns and runs, not watching as he chases after the money which is blowing away in the breeze.

She runs until she can't hear the sound of the ferry, until she can't smell the water in the air. Then she hides an alcove, a tiny space frequented only by herself and a nest of pigeons. She sits out of sight until she catches her breath, pulling her clothes closer around herself, and rubbing her face as she waits for her heart to stop hammering.

She will have to find another place to stay.

Mug is stupid, but he is persistent. Once he gets an idea in his mind, it won't go away. She will never forget how he said that he would beat the hell out of Dandy if he ever called him a 'stupid arse' again, and Dandy never did, but he beat him anyway. It took him a few weeks of repeating the words to himself, but he thought it so often that he couldn't rest until he had done it, just to get it out of his head.

Now, he has threatened her twice. First to sell her to a prostitution ring, and second to do her himself just cause he's bored. She knows that as he drinks the money that she has given him, he will think on it more and more until one night as she lay in the cardboard box that has been her home for most of a month, he will saunter over and ask her to pay again for his 'protection'. Maddy huddles in the privacy of her own coat, and cries.

Night has long fallen when Maddy finally finds her way to the step of 221B Baker Street. She has probably missed meeting the man. Regular people like meeting in the daytime, business hours, they call it. Then again, the rich man in the coat could hardly be called a regular person, could he? Maddy doesn't care. She's never going back to her old place ever again. She's content to wait here till morning for the man to return. She doesn't expect to get any money. The man pays first when he asks for help. No one ever said that he paid afterward too. Strange thing that. Expecting that he could trust people like her to do the work after they had been paid. Trusting that they would feel obligated to report back to him without promising anything else in return.

She is standing in front of a cafe. It closed hours ago, but she can still smell baked bread. It smells heavenly. It reminds her of the fresh rolls baked by Maman Mildred, not her real Mom. They would come out of the oven hot and brown, and she'd use a knife to pry them out of the muffin tin. Then she'd put a dab of butter on the top of the perfectly arched surface only to watch it slide down the side. Maddy would snatch one up then, letting the butter cool her burning fingers as she tried to eat the steaming thing straight from the oven. Then Maman would clap her hands and shoo Maddy away, but she'd let her keep the roll.

Maman is dead now, and there is no food, only the smell. It will have to be enough, because Maddy hadn't bought any food before Mug cornered her under the bridge. She turns as she hears the sound of brisk footsteps on the pavement. It is the man in the black coat. He walks up to her.

"Well?" he asks.

For a moment, her mind is completely blank. Then she thinks ' _shoes_ ' and sings...

 _"Two fifteen, shoes washed clean, sausages cut true and lean."_

"What?" he asks.

"I found the street," she replies, "The Slippery Joe's on Mornington. There's a store selling white rain boots, and an old woman with two brown beagles came out of a jewelry store there and went into a brick-fronted apartment complex around the corner with a glass door. Her flat was number two fifteen."

The man in the black coat's eyes widen, and a hint of a smile touches his lips. Then he walks to the door and into the building.

Maddy leans against the gate outside the flat. The metal pushes into her back jabbing through her thin coat. She didn't expect anything, but still half a smile seems like small return for the trouble. Then again, it isn't the man's fault that she lost her money. She can't even claim to have had it stolen. Her stomach growls. It's too late to try the Chinese restaurant. Other folks will have cleared it out by now. Besides, it's too far away. Maddy will have to find another place to go. Maybe closer to the city center, she can scrounge enough change to get something out of a machine. At least she has the smell of a good meal to keep her company.

She is just turning to go when the door opens and two men walk out, the man in the black coat, and a shorter man with blond hair. Apparently, they phoned a taxi, because it shows up moments after the door opens. The shorter man gets in, but the man in the coat thrusts something into her hands before rushing away. She looks down to find a pair of chopsticks, and a box of Chinese takeaway. It hasn't even been opened! Maddy smiles. She walks around the corner to find a private place to eat. It is the best food that she has had all year, not quite Maman's rolls, but still heavenly.


	3. A Job for Maddy

The man with the coat must be a good luck charm, because things start to go alright for Maddy. She meets a girl who tells her about a homeless shelter where she can spend the night. She arrives in the morning just as most of the overnight crowd have left. The manager, Catherine, is tired and overworked. Maddy helps her fold up bunks and wash the bedding. She's feeling good from the day before, so she makes a good impression on Catherine who asks her to stay on and help in exchange for a place to sleep in the back.

So she has a job, of sorts. No pay, but now she has a safe place to overnight as long as she helps. It means a lot not to have to worry about Mug or someone else bothering her when she's asleep. Also, the place has a bathroom which becomes really important some times of the month. That night, she sleeps much better and wakes up smiling.

Each morning, she puts up the bedding and washes and folds the sheets, then she goes out panhandling to get a little cash to buy food. She goes begging in the places where the tourists are. They don't like it when she does that. The vendors glare at her and yell. One even throws rocks hitting her in the arm to get her to stop standing near his stand.

Despite that, she keeps coming back because tourists are less jaded than the locals who simply learn not to see her. They pity her, while secretly thinking that she adds color to the scene like the wastrels in a Dickens tale. She calls them _"Guv'na"_ as she holds out her hand hopefully like the Little Match Girl frowning as though her parents are locked in a workhouse somewhere.

Maddy likes the crowded places, because she can watch the people and imagine that she has friends. Friends are people who stand by you, who help you in thick and thin. Friends are people who you can trust to help you when times are rough. Maddy doesn't have any friends.

She does, however, know some people who will share with her from time to time. Abud is one. He's a whip-thin, olive-skinned man with a long, horse-shaped face who always wears a brown tweed cap. One day, as she is taking the trash out, she sees him sitting on a pallet behind the shelter. He's strumming on a tan guitar stopping ever so often to tune it.

"Look what I found thrown away in a skip," he says. "It's only missing one string."

"You play guitar?"

"I knew a guy who did. He taught me a few things. Can you sing?"

"I don't know. I haven't done it since I was a child."

Abud let out a huff. "You are _still_ a child."

Maddy looked at him then noticing for the first time the grey streaks on his temple peeking out from beneath his cap. "Will you try to sing for me...please," he asked.

"Why?"

"Because, if I play and you sing then we are street performers, not vagrants. I've watched them work. They're rolling in the pounds. So, will you go in with me? A partnership. We'll split our winnings down the middle."

"Sure, sounds good, but… what do you want me to sing?"

"All I know how to play is Yellow Submarine."

"Do you know the words? I only know the chorus," Maddy confesses.

"Don't worry," Abud says, "Nobody knows the words. We can fake it." He strikes a chord on the guitar then, and it is only slightly out of tune.

That afternoon Maddy and Abud stand in Trafalgar square. They draw a crowd alright as stunned Londonites stare at them trying hard to ignore the awful strains of "We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine…" being warbled over and over.

The noise causes more than one person to stop in shock at how bad they are. But all that the passing tourists see, is a crowd forming. They smile, snap photos, and throw coins in the battered cardboard box that Abud sets out in front of them. After a few hours, when Maddy is sure that she can't sing another note and Abud's fingertips are hurting, they take the money and get a bite to eat.

As they sit on the steps eating a Banofee pie, Abud tells Maddy of his dream to go to Wembly stadium some day to watch a football match. He says, "Sometimes, I go there and just stand outside. I can hear the crowd yelling, and I imagine myself in there with paint on my face yelling along with them."

She says, "One day, when we get a real gig, I'll buy you a ticket." Then they laugh.

Two days later, they return. They've expanded their repertoire to include 'Hey Jude' which some guy at the shelter was able to teach her the words to, since Abud was able to pick out the notes.

While waiting around for Abud to return from an expedition in search of spiced tea, she sees the man in the black coat. She runs toward him excitedly, then her steps slow and she stops, watching as he climbs the steps and walks away followed by the light-haired man from before. For a moment, she had actually believed that the man might want to see her. She turns back, finding a place to sit as she waits for Abud to return. He comes back with one cup of regular tea.

They part soon after, since their earnings that day were poor, and Abud has a lead on a manual labor job at the wharf.

Maddy walks away going down alleys and back streets. She no longer wants to be in the crowd. She doesn't want to see all the people who have it better than she does. She decides to go back to the shelter and hide in the back room. She has just entered an abandoned alley when she hears the sound of footsteps behind her. Her heart quickens. She knows better than to run. She wants the crowds now. Here, there is no one to see her. No one to notice if someone tries to kill her. Then again, even if she were in a crowd, would they care? She walks faster.

She glances over her shoulder, but she doesn't see any one, so she turns around and looks. The alley is empty behind her, but when she turns back, she finds someone standing right in front of her. She jumps, before she recognizes the man in the black coat. He is looking down at her. She puts her hand on her heart and takes a breath before looking up at him.

His face is long, his nose is sharp, and he is tall. She never noticed how tall he was, but then again she has never stood this close to him before. He stares down at her wearing an expression that she finds unreadable. He doesn't speak.

He must have noticed her in the square when he was passing. Maybe he saw her following him. Maybe he didn't like like her following him. Maybe, he came by to tell her not to follow him anymore or worse, to beat her. She crouches down leaning away from him as she slowly moves her leg back so she can get away.

"Hello Maddy," he says.

Maddy looks up surprised, "You remembered my name?"

"Of course I remembered you. I've been looking for you."

She takes a step back. "Why?"

"You did good work for me. That lead that you gave me was excellent. No one expects an old woman with dogs to be an extortionist."

"So, do you have something that you need done now? I can do it!"

"No," he says his gaze sharp and focused, his body perfectly still.

Maddy slumps down, disappointed. She had hoped that seeing him would mean another bit of good luck after a disappointing day. She drops her head wondering where to go next, when she suddenly realizes that he hasn't moved away. He must still want something from her. Her heart-rate speeds up. She tries not to sound too scared, but her voice cracks anyway as she asks, "So...what do you want then?"

"I want to give you something, and I want to ask you something."

"What do you want to ask me?"

"I want to ask you if you will become part of my Homeless Network."

"Your what?"

"My Homeless Network. Occasionally I need information that can not be gained through traditional organized networks. Therefore, I have organized my own. I would like you to be part of it. To be my eyes and ears in the city."

"Why me?"

"You have proven yourself capable. I would like you to report to me. In exchange, I will pay you a modest sum on a regular basis."

Maddy looks up into his eyes trying not to hope. It looks too good to be true, and she knows that things that look to good to be true, usually are. "Reporting? What am I supposed to be reporting? I don't know nothin'."

He almost smiles as he says, "It is certainly true that your knowledge of Beatles songs is hopelessly flawed, but it would be a gross exaggeration for you to say that you know nothing, Maddy."

"And what is it that you want to give me?"

The man reaches into his pocket then and pulls out a phone. It is a cheap phone, the kind that they advertise pay as you go plans for. He holds it out in his gloved hand. She stares at it a moment before she finally reaches out and takes it. When she opens the phone, it chimes and a blue and green screen lights up.

"Dial 055" he says.

She does, and it rings. Looking up from the phone she sees the man reach into his other pocket and pull out a much more expensive phone. He turns it toward her so that she could see her own name printed on his phone's screen.

"You bought this phone for me?" she asks astonished at the man. Maybe he really is Santa Clause after all. She tilts her head looking to see if a red suit is hidden under his coat.

"I told you that I had been looking for you," he says.

She closes the phone. "What's the catch? What kind of information do you want?"

"Nothing harmful," he says, "I just want you to go places that I can't go. You see things that others never see."

Maddy nods, it's true enough. Maddy turns the phone over in her hands holding it on the tips of her fingers. "This phone isn't poisonous is it? Or does it explode if the wrong person opens it? I saw that in a movie once."

The man smiles, "What a clever idea. Maybe I should watch more movies as John says. No, the phone will not explode, and it is no more poisonous than any other modern electronic source of rare earth metals."

She puts it in her pocket. "So, how do I get paid?"

"By phone, wire transfer. You will have to get a form of identification in order to redeem it."

Maddy nods. There were ways to get such things if you need to. "What information do you want?"

"I don't know yet," he says. "Or I would simply have asked you. But I do need an answer from you now. John will come looking for me in a moment."

"Answer?"

"Will you or won't you?"

"Yeah, I'll join."

"Good." he replies. "Check it regularly for messages. I will text you if I need your help. Don't call me unless it is an emergency, and by emergency I mean that someone is cutting the head off of the person that I have told you to find. If you are in trouble, don't bother to call. That's your own problem. Do you understand?"

She nods. This kind of 'friendship' she does understand. It makes it all more real somehow.

"You'll hear from me soon." he says. "And one more thing. You must tell no one that you are part of the network. No one at all. I have enemies, very bad enemies, and if you tell others then you will become a target. A target that I can not defend. Do you understand?"

Maddy nods once sharply. This, she also understands. There are some things that you just don't talk about for your own protection. She can tell by the way that he gazes into her eyes that he understands her as well. His eyes bore into her as if he can read the brainwaves passing through her skull. Then he spins on his heel and walks away turning around the corner with a flare of his coat.

"Wait!" she calls, "Who are you?"

The bright light at the end of the alley glares vacantly at her. Cars pass, but the man is gone. She pulls out the phone and looks at it. It vibrates in her hand, and then she hears the first few notes of 'Yellow submarine' coming out of it. _How had he done that?_ She pushes a button and a text pops up. It reads…

 **[My name is Sherlock Holmes]**

Her mouth drops open. He must have heard her. It vibrates again and another message comes up.

 **[Delete that last message immediately]**

Maddy grins deleting the message before walking out of the alley with a spring in her step.


	4. Two Posh Boys

The payments are small. This is no job to support yourself on, but the money comes regularly every week on a Wednesday. Maddy almost begins to feel like a regular person and not a blight on society as the mean security guard had told her when he'd found her trying to keep warm inside of an abandoned storage shed.

Catherine is nice, and never asks questions about Maddy's sudden disappearances. Sherlock's calls are always unexpected and usually urgent. Once it was a missing child that was being held by a particularly savage killer. Once it was a lost bag containing a book worth five hundred thousand pounds. Imagine it, that much money for one book!

Maddy begins to notice then that Sherlock Holmes is somewhat well known. She never buys newspapers, but people leave them about, and she sees him in them occasionally. Sherlock Holmes is a bit of a celebrity.

One morning, early she receives a text.

 **[Alert all news Irene Adler sengoifkjaol]**

This worries Maddy. The Man in the Coat, that's what she calls him in her head even though she knows his name, always gives very precise instructions. This gibberish is worrying. Maybe he's being strangled and can't type properly. Of course that's ludicrous. Who would text while being strangled? And even if he would, he would probably text something like

 _ **[Help I'm being strangled]** _ instead of asking about some woman.

Almost an hour later, a text comes saying... **[disregard last message]**

Maddy looks at her phone. She wants to ask the man if he's alright, but she knows better than to call. Instead she decides to go to Baker street and look for herself.

This time, Maddy decides to brave the underground. Once, she had been cornered there, and she had gone off trains ever since. She wedges herself in the corner of the car glaring at everyone with distrust, and isn't happy until she breathes the surface air again. She hurries down the walkway making it to Speedy's cafe in ten minutes. Nothing odd appears to be happening.

Then Maddy smells the food from the cafe. She considers going in to grab a bite, when the door to 221B opens and a man walks out. It isn't the man in the coat or the short one. This man looks like he walked directly out of the back cover of a finance magazine. He wears a black pinstriped suit with a red tie, a gold chain hangs from his waistcoat pocket, and his dark coat is very fine with a red lining. He stands at the top of the step leaning on an umbrella as he gazes up and down the street.

Maddy stares at him as if he is an alien. It isn't that she hasn't seen people dressed even finer than he, it's just that he wears these clothes as if he has done so all of his life, a child of entitlement born with a silver spoon on his mouth.

Maddy wonders what it would have been like if she had been born rich and stayed that way, if she had never been forced to live on the streets. Despite what Sherlock Holmes says about not being rich, he had certainly been born rich just like this man. If Maman Mildred were alive, she would have called them ' _Two posh boys who don't know the price of milk'_. Maddy smiles.

A black car pulls up to the door from around the corner where it has been waiting, and the man walks toward it. Just before he steps in, the man looks her straight in the eyes as if he recognizes her. Then he turns his gaze to the window above him and Maddy can see Sherlock Holmes looking out. He's holding a violin of all things.

Maddy looks back to see the fancy man smiling at her. Then he gets into the car and drives away.

A few minutes later, Sherlock Holmes comes to the door wearing a white shirt and a red robe. He hands her a message wrapped in a fifty pound note, and then wordlessly closes the door. The note says...

 **Find out everything you can about the American who was shot at 44 Eaton square. Be careful.**

"Be careful?"

Maddy looks around nervously deciding to skip the cafe after all. She walks away briskly in search of information and a more comfortable place to breakfast.


	5. Safe

The Eaton Square thing was a bust. The neighborhood was much too rich for her to loiter in without being noticed, and the police station is certainly no place to hang around. She did find out, however, that the body had been taken to the airport because the dead man was American, and he was going to be sent back home.

The airport is no easy place to go on a good day. She walks around behind the gate and stands beside a loading dock hoping to catch a glimpse of the body being moved. The Americans are suspicious of people asking questions, especially reporters. There is a rule that no bodies can be photographed in a time of war. When she tries to casually ask a stiff young man standing near the gate what happens to the bodies of Americans, he gives her a piercing look that scares her near to death. She quickly gets out of there and texts Sherlock.

 **[Body delivered to airport to be sent home. Too scared to do more]**

 **[Fine]** He texts back.

Maddy spends quite a while hiding in the back room of the shelter in case that man from the airport comes looking for her. She's sure that he is a soldier by the way he stands. She hadn't noticed it until he glared at her, but now she knows it for sure. That's Maddy's problem. She recognizes things too late, but she got out alright today, and now she knows what Sherlock means by _'be careful_ '.

At eleven that night, the phone rings. Maddy pulls it out of her pocket and stares at it. The man in the coat never calls. She cautiously clicks the phone on and says, "Hello."

"Hello Maddy?" A woman's voice says. The voice is crisp, silky, and expensive sounding. How had this woman got her phone number? How had she known her name? "This is Maddy isn't it?"

"Yes." Maddy says cautiously.

"This is Irene. I want to send a message to Sherlock. He's not there with you now is he?"

Maddy thought at first that Sherlock might have given the woman her number, but now she knows that he did not. This must be one of his enemies. She doesn't know what to do, so she says nothing.

"Tell Sherlock darling that I'd love to have dinner with him tomorrow. He knows where I live, but if he feels that it has too many bad memories then we can pick another place, he just needs to text me. Maddy are you there?"

Maddy hangs up the phone. She's breathing rapidly and sweating. Sherlock told her that he had enemies, and that soldier had been a killer. Now someone has her phone number. It is indeed a dangerous thing to work for Sherlock Holmes. Maddy wonders what to do. She reasons that the safest thing would be to report.

 **[Got phone call from someone named Irene. What should I do?]**

Maddy sits in the dark in the back room of the shelter, waiting. The sounds of people snoring and getting up to use the bathroom filter through the wall. She's tired, but she can't close her eyes without seeing the eyes of the soldier, without hearing the voice of the woman. Suddenly a text comes through.

 **[Meet me where I first gave you the phone at 1pm tomorrow. Dispose of this one as soon as possible. Understand?]**

 **[Yes]** She texts back adding, **[Thank you]**

Maddy pulls on her coat, and runs out of the back door. She runs along the riverside until she comes to a bridge, then she throws the phone as far as she can until it sinks into the water of the Thames. She goes back to the shelter then, and covers her head with her coat as she sleeps. She dreams that the phone rings underwater, the silky voice repeating, "Maddy? where are you Maddy?" as it slowly sinks. It's terrifying.

The next day, Maddy makes her way back to Trafalgar square. She sits on the steps watching the birds and wondering about her life. She sits and thinks, only rising as the noon sun peeks out from behind a cloud to remind her of the time. Then she runs to the alley, entering it just as she sees him leaving, his coat flapping as he turns the corner. She runs after him, tripping on a loose piece of cardboard and falling sideways onto a bin. When she looks up again, he's gone. Her eyes begin to fill with tears. He waited for her, and she didn't come. Idiot. He's sure to find someone else now. Someone who knows how to keep an appointment. She drops to her knees and sits on the ground wiping the tears from her eyes. That's when she sees it, behind the trash bin, a box with the name Maddy scrawled on the outside.

She opens the box to find a smaller box inside. This box holds something wrapped in black cloth. She slowly unwraps it to find that it is a phone. This phone is fancier than the one she had before. It has a keyboard. Maddy's jaw drops. Even the cloth he wrapped it in is valuable. It seems to be made of silk! She wraps the scarf around her neck, and sits with her back against the wall as she looks at it. The background image has her name on it. The phone prompts her to set a password to lock the screen. She clicks _later_. It has a selection of Beatles ringtones, and internet access including apps for Wikipedia and Project Gutenberg. She looks for messages and finds that there is one.

 **[Maddy, I am now 1 on your speed dial. Previous instructions still apply.]**

Maddy smiles and cries. He really is her good luck charm. She sets the password on the phone to _submarine_ and hides it deep inside her pocket. A phone this expensive can't be pulled out in public. She'll have to keep it hidden.

Later that week when she goes to get her money, she is surprised to find that her pay has doubled. That evening, she pays to get into a public swimming pool and takes a real shower. She stands in the hot water for thirty minutes enjoying the feel of it rolling down her back.

She doesn't swim because she doesn't own a swimsuit, but she washes out her clothes and spins them in the little swimsuit spinner until they don't drip. Then she hangs them from the bar in the changing stall to dry. She sits in the corner in the back of the woman's bathroom while she waits, with one of the warm white towels wrapped around her body and another around her hair. She pulls out her phone.

Sitting here like this, with the expensive phone, she looks like a college student stopping by for an afternoon swim before going on to classes or a beer party or whatever it is that people of that class do. Maddy pulls up Project Gutenberg and begins to read The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Anderson which had been her favorite story as a child. She feels, for a little while, safe. Safe and happy.


	6. Christmas

It's Christmas eve, and although Christmas isn't always a good thing for a person on the streets, people tend to be more generous.

Maddy uses her money to buy two santa hats, and Abud and Maddy make a killing by singing Christmas carols outside the cathedral. Maddy was a much happier person now. She buys things which she shares with the other people at the shelter, and she recruits another girl named Angela to sing with them.

Angela is a real find. She has a voice just like her name. She has dirty blond hair, and an ugly scar on her cheek, but when she sings with them they make twice as much as when they sing alone.

Abud has been practicing Silent Night on the guitar and they hope to make some money singing in front of the shops, but Angela is nowhere to be seen. Abud goes ahead to where they had planned to meet, while Maddy searches the streets for Angela.

It's already dark by the time she finds her, sitting on a park bench beside a tree. Maddy sits beside her. She's been crying.

"Angela, what's wrong?" She asks.

Angela turns to her and hugs her. Crying tearlessly on her shoulder because she has no more water for tears.

"Angela, please tell me what's wrong."

Angela bends her head over pulling at her blond hair. "They killed her." Angela says.

"Who? They killed who?"

"Marianne!" Angela replies with a sob.

"Start from the beginning and tell me everything."

Angela wipes her eyes and pushes her hair behind her ears. She touches her scarred cheek and speaks. "I was stupid when I was younger," she says. " I met this man with a car. My friends told me he was bad for me, but I wouldn't listen to them. I was in love. He told me to run away with him, and I did. I found myself in a brothel with a dozen other of his _'girlfriends'_. When I said that I was going back home he beat me and said that if I tried to escape, he would kill me. That's how I became a prostitute."

Maddy nods. She hadn't been sure, but she had suspected it.

"My best friend was a girl named Marianne. She had auburn hair and a beautiful figure. She was much too beautiful for the jerk who kept us. I told her that she should try to find another place, a place with higher class people but she scoffed at me. 'This isn't a career ladder,' she said.

"I'm not that pretty, but I could turn a trick, cause blokes don't need pretty, they need available. Even so, I was planning my escape. One day, I started walking, and I didn't turn back until I was halfway out of the city. Somehow, he found me and took me back. He beat me. I told him that it was hell working for him. He said I could go to Hell and he cut me on the cheek and beat me until I was half dead. None of the other girls would help me. They were too afraid, and he said that they would get worse than he gave me if they did. I was bleeding bad, and I passed out.

"When I woke up, I was in a little room in back of a shop. Marianne had helped me. She had got help from a bloke who was sweet on her. She had talked him into letting me stay there until I got better. Everyone thought that I had died in the street. Marianne nursed me back to health. I dyed my hair. Stayed away from where he could find me, and he wasn't looking for me anyway because he thought I was dead. I had escaped.

"It's Christmas, so I decided to risk going back to see Marianne. I couldn't find her, but I found Jody crying in her place. She was surprised to see me, as you would imagine. She told me about Marianne. I told you that Marianne was too beautiful for that man. Well word came that someone big, and I mean BIG wanted a girl with these exact measurements. Marianne went to see him and they thought that she had graduated to mistress of a crime boss. Everyone was happy for her, but tonight they found her in an alley. Her face was beaten so bad that she couldn't be recognized but her body was untouched. Everyone was horrified, even the boss. He's out getting drunk."

"The police came, and the body went off to the morgue. Just another unidentified body in a street of nameless poor. But why?" Angela asks, "What kind of sick person kills someone that way? Her head was completely destroyed, and they had dyed her auburn hair dark brown. The world is unfair, and there are no angels."

Maddy can hear the sound of a brass band in the distance playing. Angela will do no singing tonight. Not sure what to do, Maddy hugs Angela and lets her cry on her shoulder. "There are angels." She says. "They can't save everyone though. All we can do is try our best to help them. I'm sorry about your friend."

When Angela feels well enough, they walk to a water fountain and Maddy makes her drink. Then Maddy pulls out her phone. "What's your home phone number?" She asks.

"That place where Marianne was?" Angela asks horrified.

"No." Maddy says. "What is your HOME phone number?"

"But I can't."

"Now!"

Angela types the number in, and Maddy pushes send. Angela sits stock still as she listens to it ring. Once, twice, three times.

"Hello, April here."

"It's my sister," Angela says to Maddy.

"Angela? Angela, is that you?" The voice over the phone calls excitedly.

"Hello April. Merry Christmas."

"Angela! Where are you? We've been looking everywhere. They said that you were dead."

"No, I'm alive. I'm in London, and I'm alive," Angela replies.

Maddy stands up and wraps her coat around her more tightly. Maddy doesn't have a home to go back to except in memory. She touches her mother's necklace and thinks of the forgotten Christmases of her childhood, of tinsel trees and gingerbread men.

Then she hears a yelp and turns to see Angela clutching the phone to her chest. Angela runs over to her smiling. "They want me to come back! They'll take me back! Can you loan me coach fare? I promise I'll pay you back. I promise."

It takes a lot of scrounging, but people are generous at Christmas and Maddy sends her off on the midnight coach out of London. She walks back to the shelter arriving early Christmas morning to find Abud waiting for her.

She tells him Angela's story, and how she had sent her out of town and back to her home. He hands her a red box. She opens it and finds a decorative silver comb for her hair.

"Thank you Abud." She says. "I don't know how long it's been since I had a real Christmas present." Maddy pulls down her hood and lifts her hair placing the comb in it.

"How does it look?" She asks.

"Beautiful." He says, and then he kisses her.


	7. Abud

A life on the streets is full of ups and downs and little is certain. It's like floating across the ocean on a raft. You sit on top and hope the swells don't drown you. But sometimes, the weather is fair, and this is what it is like for Maddy that wonderful spring.

Abud is sweet. He comes to meet her every morning. She greets him with a gentle kiss. They have a host of places where they sing. He plays better, so they earn more money. He buys her jewelry, outlandish things like necklaces made of ceramic peppers, and tiaras made of buttons. They attract attention so that even more people come to listen when Maddy ties up her hair with the silk scarf and sings. Angela had taken singing lessons, and she taught Maddy a thing or two before she left, but it is love that truly makes her voice soar.

The money they make now is always enough to eat on. They have lunch in a small cafe whose manager had once been homeless himself. He always gives them extra potatoes, and they return the favor by singing some evenings in front of his place to attract customers.

Some nights they sit in the park and cuddle. Some nights they huddle in the abandoned gardening shed where Abud sleeps, and they make love. Abud and his brother came years ago to make their fortune in England. The job that they had been promised had fallen through, and they would have been forced to return penniless if they could not find another job. They didn't find one, and two months later his brother had died of a fever.

Sitting in the hospital lobby, head in his hands, Abud heard the immigration officers talking to the nurse at the desk. They were saying his name. They were planning to deport him, so he stood up and walked out of the hospital leaving strangers to bury his brother rather than be caught. He never got over that. He cries, hot tears dropping onto Maddy's breast. He's shattered that he had not done what was proper for his brother.

"He'll forgive you," Maddy says stroking his hair. "He wanted you to succeed, and you will."

"The only lucky thing that's happened to me since I came here Maddy, is you," he says, and she kisses him.

 _Love me True_ starts playing in her coat pocket then, so she reaches over and pulls out the phone.

"You never told me," he asks, "Where did you get that phone?"

"Someone gave it to me, when I was begging," she says.

"And did this _someone_ give you a phone plan, because phones don't work if you don't continue to pay for them."

"It just works. I thought you agreed to let me have some secrets," she says sitting up and pulling on her shirt. Maddy reads the message.

 **[Banker kidnapped. Report all suspicious activity to me.]**

Maddy clears the message as Abud pulls her to his chest.

"No, you aren't going just yet."

"I'm not?"

"No, I have something to talk to you about."

"What's that?"

"I want you to come away with me."

"Where? To Wembley stadium again? Like when we saw the fireworks?"

"No, to Brighton."

"Brighton? Are we going on vacation by the sea?"

"No, there's a man, works at the train station. He says that in the summer they have these carts where people sell food for the tourists."

"So?" Maddy says.

"So, I can buy a share in a cart. They provide the things to sell at cost. We sell them at a higher price, and we keep the profit. If I manage, and you sell, I'm sure we can get by. And the beach is warm in the summer. We can sleep by the cart. If we own a business, we can make a living, use the money to buy a place that is open year round. Maybe even..."

"Maybe even what?" she asks.

"Maybe even buy a house, or rent or something. Maybe you and I could, I don't know, get married."

"Abud, are you asking me to marry you?"

"Maybe. If I was, what would you say?"

"I don't know. It doesn't seem like marriage makes any sense for people like you and me. Things are so uncertain. I can't imagine having children while living on the streets."

"It could happen anyway," he says, " I worry about it sometimes. What if you do get pregnant? What would I do then? We need to get a home. We need to make a life if we want to stay together. If my plan works, if I get the booth in Brighton, will you come with me? Whether marriage is in the plan or not. Will you come?"

Maddy looks down at the phone. The man in the coat wants her because she's homeless and lives in London. If she moves, he'll probably ask for the phone back. Go find some other girl on the street to give it to. But to have a home and a business, and a husband. It's too much to hope for. Given the choice, she would certainly take that and chuck the phone.

"Yes, I'll come with you. And if it all works out, yes, I'll marry you," Maddy says.

Abud grabs her and pulls her down to the floor of the shed. That morning after a dozen extra kisses. They dress. Morning is coming and someone might see them if they don't leave soon.

"I'll try to make some money too," Maddy says. "If we pool resources, it can happen sooner. How much money do you need to raise?"

"Ten thousand pounds," Abud says.

Maddy gasps. "Ten...thousand...pounds? How can we possibly make that much money? Five hundred, maybe, but ten thousand!" Maddy watches her dreams of marriage burst like a soap bubble. "Abud, it just isn't possible."

"Yes it is," he says, "There are people. They've approached me. They pay very well."

"What people?" Maddy asks. "You can't just take every job people offer you. Some of those people are ones you don't want to be associated with, if you know what I mean."

"Don't worry, " He says, "I've done some things before, and I know how to take care of myself. If I do a few more jobs for them, I can start making more money and we can buy that share."

"But..."

"Maddy, I know what I'm doing. Trust me. By this time next year we will have our own home and be married and living in Brighton."

Abud kisses Maddy's frowning face and then leaves by climbing over a low wall. Maddy sits against the wall with her arms crossed. "Don't trust things that are too good to be true." she says to herself. "Whatever he's planning it isn't going to work. But then again, the man with the coat had worked, so ... " She remembers then that she has a job to do, so she heads toward the docks and warehouses to begin her search.

Sherlock Holmes rescues the man. It isn't her lead that finds him. Someone else notices lights strung in an abandoned office building, and calls in the tip. Maddy notices Sherlock in the paper more and more. He and the blond short one are everywhere. She reads the news voraciously, but no one ever mentions the homeless network. There's never any mention more pointed than the phrase "an anonymous tip".

Abud is gone a lot now. He's got himself in with some not very nice people on his quest for Brighton money. Maddy tells him to forget this plan and get out while he still can, but he tells her not to worry. "Can't you see that I'm doing this for us?" He says.

Maddy frowns more and more. She goes on long walks around the city. She's got over her fear of trains, so she takes them randomly, getting off and on whenever she feels like it. She wanders through back streets until she knows what almost every part London looks like. Sherlock Holmes asks her to take photos with her phone since he is building a visual database of the city. She walks and walks taking pictures of the river, of windows, of trees, anything really. He never complains. He seems to be happy with everything that she sends him.

One morning Abud comes to her excited. He has a job that will pay lots of money. He has been given an advance of two thousand pounds. He gives the money to her to hold.

"What do you have to do?" Maddy asks.

"I can't talk about it."

"It's me!"

"Okay, but you must promise not to say a word. I dress up in a coat and wear a mask with some guy's face on it. We are going to take something from some school and hide it ."

"What are you taking?"

"I said too much already. They're giving me five thousand for this. We already saved three thousand. After this job, we'll have enough to buy the stake. I'll bring the money to you tomorrow evening. It will all work out. You'll see."

Maddy forces a smile, and Abud kisses her. She can tell that he won't really leave. Not when he is still on the way up. He'll keep saying that they need more and more money, until his bosses think he's getting too greedy and they toss him out. If he's lucky, they'll just beat him up. If he's unlucky... she doesn't want to think about what might happen then.

Maddy takes the money and wraps in in her silk scarf. She fastens it together with the citrine bracelet that Abud bought for her and goes to see Catherine.

"It's been a while," Catherine says. "have you found another job?"

"No, but Catherine," she says, "Abud bought me this jewelry and I'm afraid that it will get stolen. Is it alright if I put it in the safe?"

Catherine raises an eyebrow looking at the bundle and then back at Maddy, then she nods. "Okay, that's not a problem, but Maddy, are you alright? You look upset."

"I'm fine," she says. "Can we do it now?"

The next day she walks aimlessly while waiting for Abud. She wanders among the brick warehouses in Addlestone. It's pleasant to walk beneath the pine trees. She snaps photos of purple flowers that are growing up through the cracked asphalt. Abud and she are like those flowers, trying to grow and flourish in the dark cracks of the city, but there's no room to expand here, no room to grow.

Maddy feels a sense of dread. Abud is in with the wrong people. She never notices these things until it's too late, but when she sees him next, she'll find a way to convince him to take the five thousand that they've saved and leave London before anything bad happens. She'll convince him any way that she can that they need to go. She still remembers Marianne.

An urgent text comes on her phone. It says simply...

 **[Chalk, Asphalt, Brick Dust, Vegetation, Chocolate]**

The purple flowers are vegetation, so she sends the photo to Sherlock hoping only to brighten his day. She is surprised when he texts back.

 **[Good. Stay there]**

Maddy sits and waits on an old brick structure that had once housed a logo or a bell or a sign. She can't tell because whatever had been there was removed long ago. She listens to the traffic passing on the distant street. Then she hears the sirens. They pass right by her.

 **[Found them.]** The message says a few moments later.

She takes that to mean that she can leave. She weaves among the factories and alleyways hoping to stay out of everyone's way. She's in Surrey because Abud had asked her to meet him that evening at Addlestone chapel.

While walking past a warehouse, she hears what sounds like a gunshot. She hides behind some crates afraid to move. Then she sees a black car drive away. For a long time, she stays where she is, then curiosity overcomes her, and she walks toward the warehouse. The door is not only unlocked, it hasn't been properly closed. She walks through the door cautiously. The sunlight streams in through the high windows, but other than some odd pieces of heavy equipment rusting in the corner, it is empty. She sees something that looks like a folded bag in the distance. She walks toward it.

As she approaches she realizes that it's a body. She rushes up to it. It's a man. He's been shot. She touches his neck and pulls her hand away. He's dead. She pulls out her phone and dials 999.

"Hello." She says, "I'm in Addlestone in a warehouse, and I've just found a dead body."

"Stay calm." The operator says, "Now, I want you to check for a pulse."

"I already have." She says. "He's dead."

"Can you give us your address?"

"I don't know the address. It's near the chapel. Not far from the Tesco. I don't know. Should I go out and check?"

"No, stay where you are. We are coming. Are you alone? Is there anyone else there with you?"

"I'm alone," Maddy says as she looks up and sees a pair of shoes, "Wait, I see someone else. I think that there is another body."

Maddy walks around a large wooden spool used for holding cable. She sees the legs, and then the feet, and then the head, and then the face. Then she freezes.

"Did you say that someone else was there? Miss... Miss..."

It's Abud. He's lying on his side. There is a hole in his left temple and his dark brown eyes are staring at nothing. Maddy drops the phone.

The operator calls for her, but she can't hear her any more. She can't even hear the sound of the sirens in the distance approaching her location. Her brain is paralyzed, locked in a silent scream.

All she can see is his dead face, and all of their dead dreams.


	8. Rain

Maddy is in a daze. She sits at the police station unable to answer the questions that they ask her. All she can say is that his name was Abud, She knew him, and he is dead.

A doctor shines a light into her eyes, and says that she is in shock. They give her tea and a blanket and sit her in a quiet corner. In the end they have to let her go. A policeman touches her arm.

"Miss, would you like me to drive you someplace?"

She looks up into the patrolman's eyes. They are brown, but not as dark as Abud's are...as dark as Abud's were.

"I said, would you like me to drive you home?"

"I have no home," Maddy says, then she stands and walks through the front doors and out of the station.

She doesn't know where she is, or where she's going. She gets on a train and rides and rides until the train stops. The recorded voice tells her to get off, so she does. She walks out to the street under a dark night sky roaming the empty sidewalks until the rain forces her to take cover at a bus stop.

Sitting on a bench on some street somewhere, she hears her phone beep. It takes her two entire minutes to work up the heart to pull it out of her pocket. She unlocks it and reads the message.

 **[Initiate Network Termination Protocols.]**

Termination of the network? She reads it again just to make sure. He had told her about this. In an emergency they would get rid of the phones, dissolve the homeless network and pretend that it had never existed, pretend that she had never met the man in the coat. He said that It was for her own protection if things ever became too hot.

It seems appropriate somehow now that her life with Abud is gone that her other life is also ending. The man with the coat had made her believe that a good life was possible for her. Now he's leaving her just like Abud has. Everything is over now, and Maddy is much too sad to cry.

Maddy deletes each message, and each phone call. This is the protocol. Protect yourself. Protect your friends. She looks at the number before her, Angela's home number, and wonders what happened when Angela arrived home. Maddy could call her now and ask, but if she did, Angela might ask about Abud. She deletes the number and goes on. Before she is finished, another message arrives.

 **[Special instructions follow for CAKEWALK, BIKER, AND YELLOWSUBMARINE]**

She is Yellow Submarine. She waits.

 **[Type in codeword GOODBYE]**

She finds the part of the phone that accepts codes, and she enters it. The screen fills with text.

 _1\. Do not throw this phone away. I will use it to contact you._

 _2\. Exactly forty eight hours from the time of this message meet me on Waterloo bridge._

 _3\. Delete all personalization from this phone in case it must be discarded. Remove all messages, and all numbers._

 _4\. Go to the Post office at 181 High Hoborn and ask for the message addressed to Madeline St. Martin in box 226._

She reads the last entry twice. Madeline St. Martin is her real name. How had he known? Her fake identification card lists her name as Maddy Pond, a surname that she had heard on a television show. She puts away the phone and begins to walk back to the city center. She has to move. She can't stand the thought of waiting five hours for the trains to start up again. She walks until she is tired, then she sits down and rests. When the cold wind wakes her, she stands and walks some more. She climbs a hill and watches the sun rise beneath the clouds. It is red. Red like a warning. Red as Abud's blood. Where is his body? At the police station?

"His burial, I must see to his burial," she says rushing back down the hill as the half circle of light rises above the clouds turning the whole world grey.

"That body is on the list to be autopsied" The woman behind the desk replies. "They've taken it to St. Bartholomew's hospital."

"But can I leave instructions for his burial?" Maddy asks, her fingertips digging into the chipped wooden counter.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Mohammed," she says. "We don't have any control over the body now, you'll have to go there."

Maddy leaves, but now she has a mission. One brother had been left without a proper burial, the second would get one.

The sky is clearing as she leaves the station. Patches of blue and white-rimmed clouds releasing shafts of sunlight to illuminate the busy streets. Blue sky seems wrong to her on a day of such sadness, so she is happy to find that it is raining when she exits the tube a few blocks from the hospital.

At Saint Bartholemew's hospital, she notices knots of people standing in the lobby, talking excitedly. Maddy pushes her way through to the counter.

"I'm here about a body," she says, "It's listed to have an autopsy done."

"So, are you here to take custody?" The woman behind the counter asks. "Let me call down to the morgue. Please have a seat."

She sits by herself with her head leaning against the wall. She only opens her eyes when she hears the name "Sherlock Holmes."

"I'm sorry sir, there is no one by that name listed as a patient in this hospital," The woman at the counter tells someone.

"He isn't a patient," the man replies. "He's a ...he'd be in the morgue. Just get me Molly Hooper. Get her on the line now."

Maddy looks up and sees the short man with the blond hair. He looks as horrible as she feels. She can't understand why the man is here, but he is the only person who feels real to her. His eyes are haunted with loss. He understands what it feels like to have the world yanked from under him, to suddenly be displaced into a universe where nothing makes sense anymore.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hooper can't come to the line right now, apparently the morgue is off limits until all the autopsies have been scheduled. I'm sorry Dr. Watson. If you will give us your number, we can call..."

The man turns away then and rushes out into the rain. She stares after him almost missing that they have called her name.

"Madam," The woman at the counter says. "There is a backlog in the morgue and your husband won't be autopsied today, but if you leave me your number, we can call you."

"I'll come back later," Maddy says.

* * *

London is a darker city now, a city of despair. She stands in the chill rain letting it wash her thoughts away as it has already washed away her hopes.

 _"It's good to cry in the rain,"_ Maddy thinks. _"You can walk through the crowds with tears streaming down your face and people don't even notice."_

When the rain soaks through her coat, she starts to shiver. She feels a blast of warm air coming from a door to her right, and turns toward a cafe. The change in pressure as she walks through the doorway makes her hearing go momentarily dull. She buys a cup of tea, warming her hands with the cup, and she tries to think of nothing. Thoughts come anyway. Thoughts of rain, washing through the streets, falling into gutters, draining into rivers, flowing to the sea. The sea at Brighton. The sea of Abud's dreams. Silently, she cries.

At the post office, she is handed a brown paper package labeled with her name. She finds a quiet corner and opens it. The box holds an envelope full of money. If only she had found it earlier, Abud might still be alive.

Maddy is beginning to hate money. Now she has loads of it: Sherlock Holmes' money, Abud's money, more money than she had ever dreamed of having. What good is money now that she has no more dreams? What is the point of money if you can't spend it on the people that you love?

The irony of it all hurts her. It hurts so much that she bends over clutching at her chest. Her heart is broken. She pulls the box to her, and it rattles. She reaches inside and finds a book. The book is small with a blue cover inlaid with silver curlicues. It is The Snow Queen. How had he known?

Maddy adds Sherlock Holmes' money to the money that she has in the safe. She lays in the back room of the shelter avoiding contact with the others, avoiding Catherine's sympathy. As she waits, she opens her book and reads.

 _"When we get to the end of the story, you will know more than you do now about a very wicked hobgoblin. He was one of the worst kind; in fact he was a real demon. One day he was in a high state of delight because he had invented a mirror with this peculiarity, that every good and pretty thing reflected in it shrank away to almost nothing. On the other hand, every bad and good-for-nothing thing stood out and looked its worst."_

Yes, everything that used to be good looks bad now. She closes the book and although she did not think it possible, exhaustion finally catches up with her, and she sleeps.

The next day she walks through the city. Sitting on a bench, she notices a newspaper. The caption reads _**Suicide of Fake Genius**_ \- _Fradulent detective takes his own life_.

 _"Sherlock Holmes is dead? I don't believe it,"_ she thinks. _"He's meeting with me tonight."_

Of course, a meeting with a homeless person wouldn't be enough to stop someone bent on suicide, but even so, she can no more imagine the man in the coat committing suicide than she can imagine Santa Claus doing it. That message that he had sent. It had been a warning. Someone was after him. There was danger. It didn't feel to her like despair.

Maddy picks up the paper and reads the article. He had jumped from a building yesterday. If that was true, was there any point in going through with the plan? Dead men can't make meetings. She should go back to the shelter. She continues to read, but the more she reads, the angrier she gets. The story says that all of the cases that Sherlock Holmes had solved were fake. That is a lie! She had helped solve some of them. She had been the one to find the kidnapped boy, chained in a warehouse near the wharf. She had been the one to find the beagles that had led to the prosecution of the granny extortionist. She tears the paper up and throws it away.

She should have known better than to trust the paper. She knows more than anyone how they only tell stories that the people in power want you to hear. They never talk about things like Abud's murder, or of the rich crime lords who ask for call girls and then beat them to death leaving their bodies in back alleys. People don't want to hear stories of people living on the streets. They don't want to think about them. They pretend that they don't see them. Maddy looks up at the people passing her by, glancing at her dirty clothes and tattered fingerless gloves and judging her worthless. The Earth is full of killers and liars. She throws herself down on the bench and tries hard not to hate the world.

At midnight, she sits on a bench on Waterloo bridge. She doesn't know what she is expecting to find. Perhaps a ghost, perhaps nothing, but she will follow her last instruction. She needs to do it to get closure before starting her life anew. She looks down at the water. The water that washes down to the sea. The sea that flows into the ocean. The ocean beside Brighton.

She hears footsteps and turns, a man is approaching, but it isn't the man in the coat. He wears a short green jacket and a ski hat. She turns away looking down at the waves again. As the man walks past, she looks up into his face. It is Sherlock Holmes.


	9. Meeting with a dead man

Sherlock Holmes looks into her face and then turns away. Maddy jumps as if she has seen a ghost, then she follows him. He crosses the bridge and walks down the street. She follows several paces behind. He doesn't stop at the first corner or the second. He weaves between the buildings turning into one alley and then another. She follows him as best she can trying not to run despite the fact that his long legs allow him to go so much faster than her.

As she rounds the corner, Maddy sees him turn off sharply and pass through a door. She runs to the door, hesitates for a moment, and then rushes through. She sees him lift a finger to his mouth motioning for quiet. They wait in silence for about five minutes, then he gestures for her to follow him.

They enter a stairwell and walk up to the top. He opens a door and enters a cleaning closet, then he pulls down a ladder and climbs up through a vent in the ceiling. The place holds air conditioners and ventilation fans for the building. There is a constant whirring sound. Sherlock Holmes covers the opening to the closet below, and leads her to a wall where the louvered vent allows a view of the city lights. There is a bed roll and a pile of clothes here. The man sits down and motions to her to sit beside him.

It is a strange thing sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes. They sit for a while in silence simply looking out at the city as the equipment groans on behind them. He says, "You could have done that better."

"Done what?"

"Follow me. You were easy to see. If it wasn't for the fact that people are predisposed to ignore you then everyone would have noticed that you were following me."

"I wanted you to notice," Maddy says. "I came to meet you. Anyway, aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I am dead," he says, "and I plan to stay that way, at least until my business is done."

He stops talking then and silence falls. Maddy doesn't want to know what his business is. Perhaps it is revenge, to get back at those who threatened him. Perhaps it is something else. It doesn't concern her. The only thing that Maddy has left to do is bury Abud. She doesn't know what to do after that.

"Maddy, I need your help," he says.

He stares into her eyes, but she won't keep his gaze. Sherlock holds up his phone and shows her a picture of the man with the blond hair. He's sitting at a table wearing a blue striped jumper with a warm smile on his face. "Do you know this man?" he asks.

"Yes," Maddy says. "I've seen him with you more than once."

"And he has seen you, that makes things a bit difficult, but not impossible as John's memory is incredibly bad. Of course, you are female, and he does have a special talent for remembering anything that is female, but it can't be helped. I want you to follow him."

"Follow him where? When? For how long?"

"Starting today, for as long as you can."

"Why me?" Maddy asks. "The network is dissolved. We've all gone our separate ways. Why do you want me to still work for you? You could have picked anyone."

"I picked you, because I trust you Maddy. I trust you with my most important mission."

"What mission?"

"To watch over John," he replies, his voice cracking at the sound of his friend's name.

Maddy does look into his eyes then, and she sees something that she had never noticed before. She sees that he is human. He is not Santa, or a ghost, or anything else mystical. He is a man alone sharing a bunk with her and asking for her help.

"I can't do this," Maddy says. "I live somewhere else. I'd look suspicious. I can't be around him all of the time. Also, he might take a taxi and I couldn't follow him."

"If you can't follow all of the time, that's fine," he says, "but I need to know that someone is watching his back. I need to know that I can contact you to find out how he is doing. I need to know if he is alright."

Maddy looks at the man's face. She had thought it expressionless, but now she can see the concern in the firmness of his lips, and the furrowing in his brow. She reaches out her hand to him, but pulls it back before she touches him. "I'll help," she says. "I know what it's like to be worried about the safety of someone that you care about."

"I know," he says. "I could tell."

Maddy looks at him suspiciously. "How do you know that? What do you know about me?"

"I only know what I observe."

"What do you mean, observe?"

"It's obvious," he says gesturing at her body. "Your whole life is here. First, the fact that you are homeless at all at your age shows that either you have no living parents, or that your parents are people that you could not bear to live with. That necklace you wear. Obviously a memento of your past. A choker, but not your size. It belonged to someone else. I would guess your mother from the age, and the style of the chain. You touch it unconsciously which means that you think of her often. On the end, a St Christopher medal. Your mother was Catholic. St Christopher is the patron saint of travelers, but that's probably not why she bought it, it would be for his other role as one who intercedes for those who are ill. Your mother was ill. Most likely she died of the disease.

"What of other relatives? There must have been a father, brother, someone. Why didn't you stay with them? Your words said it all, 'I know what it is like to be worried about the _safety_ of someone that you care about.' You said 'safety'. The person that your mother lived with was abusive. That's why you left after she died. That's why you aren't going back.

"Your other other necklace is fanciful. Peppers. Obviously a gift as it doesn't match your coloring. You are sad, but you wear it still which suggests that the person who gave it to you is also dead.

"Your clothes when I first met you were baggy and dull. You didn't want to be seen as female. You didn't want people to think of you in a sexual way. Now, things are different. The color of your shirt, the way you style your hair say that you found someone who you wanted to see you as a woman. I told you, Maddy, I observe."

"But you still haven't told me why you picked me. Not that first time. That was just random. I mean in the square, you sought me out. You had a phone already prepared for me. What made you want _me_ out of all of the homeless people in the city?"

He smiled. "Because, that first day outside my flat, you were hungry. Your stomach growled. I could tell that you had lost the money that I gave you, because you were hungry. If you had the money you would have bought something to eat. How could I tell that you were trustworthy and dependable? Because I paid you first, and you lost all of the money, but you came back anyway and gave me one of the best and most thorough leads that I'd got in months. That and the poem."

"The poem?"

"Yes!" he says excitedly. "It was the most important part. You use mnemonic devices to remember things. That means that expanding your mind is important to you. That means that knowledge, discovery, and problem solving are things that interest you, and if they do, you more than others can understand my desire to solve cases. All of these things make me trust you, and that is why I am giving you, of all my irregulars, the most important charge of all. To watch my friend. So Maddy tell me, will you do it? Will you help me keep John safe?"

Maddy looks up into his eyes. Human eyes. Concerned eyes. She touches her necklace. "Yes, whatever you need. I'll help."

He gives her a sad smile and says, "Thank you Maddy. Thank you."


	10. Watching John

**AUTHORS NOTE: This story was written in the hiatus after season 2, therefore it is not compliant with any details past that point.**

Not being a master of disguise, Maddy decides to go for the obvious approach. She picks a spot close enough to 221B to watch John enter and exit, but far enough away to not be obvious and she sits down to beg, asking passers by for loose change. People are quick to ignore you if you are asking them for money.

She picks a spot across the street and near the corner in the direction John usually walks when he goes to the tube station. From here, she can follow his movements down the other street without having to move.

Every evening she sends a text to a certain number. Mr Holmes never replies. They have a code to make sure that the messages are from her. The last word in each text starts with a letter from the chorus of Yellow Submarine.

"Start at the beginning of the chorus, and use each letter in the song sequentially. I would have you include the verse as well," Holmes said, "but it is obvious that you do not know it."

Day 1

 **[Stayed at home all day, windy]**

Day 2

 **[Went out for food, walking very slowly, everywhere]**

Day 3

 **[Stayed in all day. One visitor. Landlady turned her away]**

Day 4

 **[The funeral. Left in black car looked lonely]**

Day 5

 **[Left early came back drunk late]**

Maddy finally is given custody of Abud's body. At first they refused because she could not prove that she was his wife, but as no one else comes to claim him, they finally relent.

He has a traditional Sunni ceremony at the graveside. She brings some people from the shelter using her money to pay for their transportation. Catherine is there, and she helps Maddy serve a small meal afterwards that they share with anyone who asks.

The people in the funeral home are very nice. Death is one place where there is no rank. Most of her money goes to pay for his burial. The rest goes to the director for the transport and re-internment of Abud's brother. She had found his cremated remains, and she arranged to have them buried over Abud's grave. He will rest easier for that.

After the funeral, she goes back to Baker street. She wears the black scarf that Sherlock gave her over her face as a mourning shawl. Walking slowly past 221B in the nighttime, she looks up at Sherlock's apartment. The lights are out, but she sees a face in the window, John's face, looking out as if he is waiting for Sherlock to come home. John sees her looking up at him. She keeps walking. What will he think of her? Perhaps he will think her a figment of his imagination, or a projection of his own soul which, if it is anything like her own, must now see the morbid in all things. She pulls out the phone and texts Sherlock.

Day 6

 **[Busy with my own funeral Came late. Face in window no Light]**

The next day the street is fairly quiet. Maddy pulls out her book and reads.

 _"Nobody knew where he was, and many tears were shed; little Gerda cried long and bitterly. At last, people said he was dead; he must have fallen into the river which ran close by the town. Oh, what long, dark, winter days those were!_

 _At last the spring came and the sunshine._

 _'Kay is dead and gone,' said little Gerda._

 _'I don't believe it,' said the sunshine._

 _'He is dead and gone,' she said to the swallows._

 _'We don't believe it,' said the swallows; and at last little Gerda did not believe it either."_

Maddy is surprised to see a large black car pull up to the door. A man gets out. She recognizes him as the man she had seen before, the man with the chain in his waistcoat. He rings the bell and a woman lets him in. The car, as before, drives around the corner to wait. He doesn't stay long, about half an hour, then he comes out and stands on the step holding a phone to his ear. He scans the street for a second then he stares straight at Maddy before turning his eyes away at the approach of his car. He climbs inside. The car turns toward her, and drives by the corner slowly and ominously. The darkened windows reflect her own image back to her as she tries to look inside.

That evening after dark, Maddy is preparing to go back to the shelter when a black car comes up to her. The window rolls down, and a richly dressed woman with dark hair beacons to her. "Come here," she says.

Maddy looks at the car. She doesn't like it one bit. She shakes her head and smiles, pretending that she doesn't understand. The door opens. Maddy starts to walk away. The door closes, and the car follows her. She jogs, turning down a side street. The car follows. She runs across a busy street almost getting hit, and goes down an alley. When she gets to the end of the alley, a car pulls in front of her. She turns around to find a large man standing behind her. She's terrified, but she knows better than to show fear. He reaches out for her, but she pulls her arm away and climbs into the car on her own. The man slides into the seat next to her. The woman sits on the other side. She wears a navy blue linen suit with a fur collar. Her beige shoes are scrupulously clean. A designer bag sits on her lap.

"Hello," she says.

Maddy remembers the woman on the phone, the one who wanted to meet with Sherlock.

"Are you Irene?" she asks.

"I am if you want me to be," she says before reaching into her bag and pulling out an expensive phone. She sends a text.

The car drives past a metal gate toward a fancy house. It enters into a private garage. The man ushers her out of the car and another man searches her before pushing her into the building. She knows better than to put up a fight. They take her phone.

She is led through a multistory house, the large man trailing behind her. He looks at her with malice. She tries her best to look harmless and unobtrusive.

The house is scrupulously clean, with marble floors and tables. The furniture is white, as are the drapes, and she worries about tracking in mud. This house must be for show. It doesn't seem possible that anyone can live in a place like this, with white carpets and mirrored walls.

She is shown into a richly furnished room. It shines of polished wood and china vases, and it feels as cold and unyielding as a block of ice. The man in the waistcoat sits in a leather chair beside a silver tea tray. They seat her facing him, but much too far away to reach either him or the tray.

The woman in blue walks across to the man and hands him Maddy's phone, then she leaves. The larger man hovers threateningly nearby.

The man in the waistcoat turns the phone over in his hands. He puts it down on the tray beside his tea cup.

"Well, well, Maddy Mohammed is it? Or would you rather be called Madeline St. Martin?"

Maddy says nothing. The rich man pours himself a cup of tea and places it to his lips. He doesn't offer her any.

"You've been watching John Watson. You've virtually camped outside his flat, and you were there before. Quite an interesting hobby you have. What are you hoping to find there? Or is it simply a job that you are doing for your employer? Can you speak?"

"Yes I can speak," Maddy says, "and I don't have an employer. That's why I'm on the streets."

The rich man gives her a vicious smile. "That's not quite true, is it? First of all, you've been working at the shelter part-time, but recently you buried your 'husband', and paid for the burial and the funeral yourself. Quite a feat for an unemployed widow with no income, so tell me where is your employer now?"

"I told you, I don't have one."

"Don't lie to me!" the man snaps. "Those notes were traceable. Some of the money was stolen from a bank three months ago. We could have you in jail for robbery, conspiracy of kidnapping, and murder."

"Murder? I didn't kill anyone."

"Your 'husband's' employers, why are you loyal to them? You must know that they were the ones who killed Abud Mohammed."

"Who killed him?"

"Your employer did."

"You mean that Abud was shot by… that's not possible."

"So you _do_ have an employer. Where is he?"

Maddy touches her face. Could Sherlock Holmes have shot Abud? it doesn't seem possible. He had texted her not an hour before. The purple flowers. She saw him pass by in the police car. This man was mistaken.

"No, he wasn't there," she says. "He didn't shoot Abud."

The rich man in the suit smiles like a viper. "He didn't do it personally. He has other people who do that kind of work for him."

Maddy looks into the face of the rich man, the man who is trying to tell her that Sherlock Holmes is a killer, that he has killed her husband. It's the newspaper all over again. The people in power, and this man is obviously one of them, want her to obey. They are liars. He is a liar. She's seen killers before, and she knows that Sherlock Holmes is not one of them. This man wants her to betray him. It will not happen.

The man seems to be reading the expressions on her face. He sits back in his chair pressing his fingertips together. His eyes glare at her. He looks more like a murderer in that moment than anyone she has ever seen.

"So it is loyalty. I am honestly surprised. I never thought of James Moriarty as the kind of person to instill loyalty in someone like you."

"Who?" Maddy asks.

"Your employer, James Moriarty," he says. "Certainly you must know by now that your idol is dead."

Suddenly Maddy realizes that this man is not talking about Mr Holmes. He thinks that she is a spy for someone else. She has no idea who this man is, or the other one. She can deny that she knows anything, but they have no reason to believe a word she says. She is just a pawn in a game between gang bosses, and she knows what happens to pawns in games like this. She isn't going to get out of here alive.

Maddy glances at the phone. What will Sherlock think when he stops getting messages? Will he figure out what happened? She told him she couldn't do it. How can she protect John. She can't even protect herself. At least Abud has been laid to rest properly. There is that. Will her body end up on the street like Marianne's did, another nameless corpse in the city of London? No byline in the paper. No one to care. A metal container of ashes placed in a pauper's grave.

The man stares at her silently, his eyes darting back and forth. He picks up her phone, and examines it. He presses keys in a complex pattern and the screen opens.

"How did you do that?" Maddy asks.

"Please..." he scoffs as if she has insulted him. "All phones have developer keys that allow the makers to get into them if they need to. It is a simple thing to learn them for the different models of phone." He looks through her messages, and then glances up at her.

"A communication, but with whom? The last word is obviously a identification code. What code has three L's in a row. Is it mathematical?" He punches a few buttons on the screen, and then becomes very still. His eyes look up at Maddy, his expression changed to one of wonder. He stands, the phone clasped in one hand.

"Where is he?" he says.

"I thought you said that he was dead."

"I thought that he was. Tell me where Sherlock is. It's him you work for not Moriarty. When did you last see him? Please," he says. "This is too important. Only Sherlock could have put this message in this phone. Where is he?"

Maddy stands and the man who had been waiting patiently beside the door walks closer, ready to restrain her. She glares at him in anger.

"You people," she spits. "I'm sick to death of you. You think that because you have money that you own people like me, but you don't. You make the world uneven, and you like it that way. You like being on top and telling other people what to do. You walk over other people's lives, over people's dreams. We aren't even real people to you, are we? What does it matter to you that my lover was shot in a warehouse last week for dreaming of running a business in Brighton, for dreaming of a life for our children? Children that will never be born because some other rich man, someone like you, decided that the loose ends needed to be swept clean.

"You people of prestige and power, living in your castles of glass and fine furniture, thinking yourself so high above us who live on the streets. You have no compassion, none of you. It's been choked out of you by your privilege and your public school educations. You're taught to be glad of what you have and to work to make sure that no one else gets any of it. Well I don't want it. I don't want to be like you!

"When I came into this room, I was less to you than a dog. No, I was a kitten in a bag that you planned to drown for your sport. Now that you want something you change your words, but nothing of you has changed inside. You will never change.

"So kill me if you want to. Kill me like they killed Marianne beating her face until her own mother couldn't recognize her. Kill me like they killed Abud, and that other man who I never knew. I'm sure that he had dreams too. But don't worry, even if you don't do anything to me, all you really have to do if you want to kill me is wait. Wait until the next cold spell makes my toes freeze off. Wait until I die of hunger because the funding was cut to the shelter for the third time. Wait until I get old and sick and no one bothers to check to see if I need water or even if I'm still breathing. It shouldn't bother you. You have this house. You have your cars and your fine women in furs to take care of you. But I still believe in Karma, and I know that this evil will return to you. It will return to you tenfold!"

Maddy is breathing hard now, her voice cracks on the last note, and she feels like she is about to cry. The man stares at her open-mouthed, the phone in his hand. He bows his head folding his hands together under his chin. Then he looks up apologetically.

"I'm sorry Miss St. Martin for inconveniencing you," he says. "My associates will take you wherever you wish to go."

Maddy's anger is bleeding out of her by the second. The man clutches the phone to his chest as if it holds his life's hope. She knows better than to ask for it back.

They escort her to the car in silence. Since they already know about the shelter, she has them take her there. There will be no more watching John. Her cover is blown.

"I'm sorry, Mr Holmes," she says to herself as she steps out of the car and walks down the river road toward the shelter, and her bed.


	11. Homeless

The next morning after breakfast, Catherine hands Maddy her brown box that had been in the safe. "I'm sorry to do this Maddy," she says, "but I'm going to have to let you go."

"What?"

"Yesterday, some government officials came asking about you. You've been mixed up with something. All that money from unnamed sources. And you hardly ever come to work anymore. I'm sorry, but we can't risk being closed down because of illegal activity."

"But I'm not doing anything illegal."

"I know," Catherine says calmly, "And it breaks my heart to do this, but you are a much more capable person now than you were when you came here. When you go, I'll be able to give someone else your bunk and help someone who needs a place more than you do. We don't have many resources here, and you've been here for a long time. Do you understand?"

Maddy nods, taking the box in her hands. "I understand," she says.

Maddy gathers her things and shoves them in a bag. Then she walks out of the door.

"Goodbye Catherine."

"Goodbye Maddy. Good luck," Catherine says with a wave before walking back into the kitchen.

Maddy walks slowly down the road beside the river truly homeless again. She stands on the pier and opens her box. She's down to twenty pounds. She shoves it in her pocket, and throws the box in a waste bin. She looks fondly at the citrine bracelet that Abud bought her. Its rough crystals shine yellow-green the greenish shade being a little rare in the semi-precious stone. 'It represents happiness,' he had said as he placed it on her wrist. She had been afraid to wear it in public, in case someone thought that it was worth hurting her to get. She might pawn it and make a few bucks for food. She shoves it onto her wrist instead, the tears flowing down of their own accord.

When Sherlock dissolved his homeless network, he kept in contact with three members. Maddy watched John and Mrs Hudson, BICYCLE watched Molly Hooper, and CAKEWALK watched DI Lestrade. Since none of them knew one other, they couldn't betray each other.

There is a contingency plan for if her phone is lost or stolen. She is to sit at a particular place outside of St. Bartholomew's Hospital between the hours of noon and 1pm on three successive Tuesdays. If she does, BICYCLE will be able to recognize her and get her a new phone. Making herself recognizable is risky, but that's all that she can think to do.

She sits in the designated spot one Tuesday, making sure to go to other places during the rest of the week. The next Tuesday, she sits there again, looking at the passing people and wondering if she can recognize BICYCLE as someone that she has seen before.

Many people pass in front of Bart's hospital at lunchtime. It's dizzying trying to watch them all, but the corner that she sits at is a bit removed from the major traffic areas, and therefore a bit less busy. As she sits, she notices a man standing on the curb, staring up at the roof. She looks up, but she can't see anything. When she looks back at the man, she recognizes him. It's John Watson. He's looking steadily at the roof. Is this where Sherlock had jumped? He hadn't told her how he'd escaped dying that day and she had never asked, but the news said that John had been a witness to it.

He stands there staring, shielding his eyes from the glare as he re-lives that time. Pain is visible on his face. His hand drops to cover his mouth. He looks so out of place among the busy crowd, as if he is moving in slow motion. He doesn't know that Sherlock Holmes is alive.

She could tell him. She could write it on the side of the building so that he can see: **Sherlock Lives!** In huge letters. But she can't. She can't tell John that Mr. Holmes is alive. He made her promise. John mustn't know if he is to remain safe.

That night when they had sat in that rooftop room watching the city. Sherlock had admitted to her how frustrated he was that he had to keep himself hidden.

"Powerful forces are moving," he had said, "and I won't risk him. I won't risk any of them, until I know who is out there, and how I'm going to deal with them."

But standing here, watching the man visibly in pain, she isn't sure if that is the right decision.

John Watson stands still, hands clenched at his side. Maddy climbs to her feet watching as the crowds part around him. John nods once to himself, then he turns to go. Maddy follows him. She runs across the street trying to catch up and barely avoids being hit by a bus. She stands on the curb as the bus pulls up in front of her, and in the dark glass, she sees the reflection of a black car. She carefully tilts her head, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees it idling on the curb, a black car with mirrored windows is waiting.

Maddy gets on the bus just before the door closes. Luckily, she has enough change for bus fare. She turns back and stares at the black car as the bus drives by it. It might not be the same one. There are plenty of black cars with mirrored windows in London, still….

She shakes her head and takes a seat on the bus. She doesn't even know where it is going, but it doesn't matter. She won't be coming back here next Tuesday or ever again. They are watching her, and she won't blow BICYCLE's cover. Sherlock is simply out of reach.

Maddy walks the streets at night, catching naps in the daytime when it's warmer and safer. She finds herself returning to the places where good things had happened to her: To Trafalgar square where she and Abud had sung yellow submarine to a group of stunned Londoners. To the swimming pool where she had taken her first warm shower in months, and read The Snow Queen on her new phone. To the garden shed where Abud had proposed to her before he left to take that job that led to his death, and to Waterloo bridge where Sherlock Holmes had first given her fifty pounds and a slip of paper asking her to find Slippery Joe's sausages, white rain boots, and beagles.

Maddy sits on Waterloo bridge late one evening lost in thought when she hears footsteps approaching. A man walks to the edge of the bridge and leans against the railing looking fixedly at the water flowing below the bridge.

Maddy sits up. She knows him. It's John Watson, and he looks sad, very sad. There are bags under his eyes, and his clothes are rumpled as if he'd slept in them. He looks up at the starry sky and then stands on the railing watching the black water pass below.

"I wouldn't recommend jumping!" Maddy calls out. "The water is awfully cold this time of year."

John turns, seeing her for the first time.

"You wouldn't like it much." Maddy says. "Besides, that water is pretty dirty. There are plenty of better places to throw yourself in. I could show you some, if you'd like."

John steps down from the railing. He looks at Maddy. "Do I know you?" he asks her.

"Could be, but people don't usually admit to knowing people like me," Maddy says smiling.

"It's just, you look familiar. I know that I've seen you somewhere before."

"It is possible," Maddy says, "I get around a lot, but I don't think that you've ever given me money, not that I remember."

"Yes," he said, "I do remember you. I saw you in the hospital waiting at the desk by the morgue."

Maddy stills. Her lip juts out involuntarily, and her eyes begin to tear up as she remembers.

"Who were you there for?" John asks.

"My husband," Maddy says, her voice cracking slightly. "Or, he should have been. Ceremonies don't mean much when you're on the streets."

"I'm sorry for your loss," John says, and somehow, it feels better to have heard him say it. She knows that he means it, and it seems as if he's the first person she has met since Abud's death who has said that to her and really meant it. She begins to cry.

"And I am sorry for your loss as well." Maddy says wiping the tears from her face.

"How did you know that I had lost someone?" He asked.

"In the hospital, you said 'Sherlock Holmes'. I guess you must forget sometimes that you are famous. I've seen you in the paper loads of times."

"Famous? Yeah….I guess I am," John says looking down at his feet. "But, I'm not the one who was supposed to be famous." John's mouth goes hard then, and he lifts his chin as he says loudly, "Sherlock Holmes was NOT a fake!"

"I know that," Maddy says. "All of us here know that. You can't lie to the people who find the bodies. We all know that Sherlock Holmes was the real thing."

John looks at Maddy with hungry eyes, as if he had been starving for someone to say just that to him for a long, long, time. Then he smiles. "What's your name?" he asks.

"Maddy."

"Hello Maddy, my name is John." He stretches out his hand.

"I know," she says clasping his warm hand with her cold one.

"Oh, because of the papers."

She nods and he smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Maddy."

"It's nice to meet you too, John."

She takes back her hand then and sticks it into her pocket, hoping to hold on to a bit of his warmth. "So," Maddy says to him, "Do you, by any chance, have some food on you?"

John laughs. " No, but I bet that we could buy something, my treat."

"I was hoping that you would say that. Otherwise, we might be spending the night hunting pigeon."

John laughs again, "Pigeon? Did you know that in some parts of the world, they are considered quite a delicacy?"

"They aren't considered one here," Maddy says as they walk off the bridge together smiling.

Maddy lost her way to contact Sherlock. She has lost her way in life. She doesn't know how to protect John. She can't even protect herself, and she has sorrows that weigh her down. Sorrows that seem at times too great to carry. But John has sorrows too, and if there is one thing that Maddy has learned from living on the streets, it's that burdens are easier to carry if you don't have to carry them alone.


	12. A Friend

For the last few years, the only constant in Maddy St. Martin's life has been change. It had been a change when her mother had died, and she'd had to make important decisions about her life at the tender age of seventeen. It had been a change when Abud Mohammed had proposed to her, only to have their plans of marriage, a business, and a family die with him when someone left his body in a warehouse in Addlestone. But none of the changes had been as strange or as random as when Sherlock Holmes had chosen her to be a part of his homeless network, and given her the charge to watch over his friend, John Watson. That promise has led her to a late night dinner with a formerly suicidal John Watson whom she has distracted from his plan to throw himself into the Thames.

John piles more rice onto Maddy's plate, treating her as his guest even though her clothes are dirty, and she smells bad from too many days living rough. He talks pleasantly to her in a tone that she honestly can never remember anyone using with her before. He talks to her like an equal. It may be because John Watson is just that kind of man, a man who treats everyone fairly, but it's more likely that he feels that he understands her because he knows that they've both recently shared loss. The loss of someone close to them. The loss of someone that they loved.

John Watson is grieving the loss of his flatmate, partner, and friend, Sherlock Holmes, who threw himself from the roof of St. Bart's Hospital and was considered by all, including John, to be dead. Maddy doesn't ask, but she bets that the loss of Sherlock Holmes played a part in why she found John balancing on the rail of Waterloo Bridge.

But Maddy knows Sherlock is alive, and that confession hides just behind her tongue. A confession that she bites back with each mouthful of rice.

They sit with full stomachs sipping green tea in the only Chinese restaurant in this part of town still open at this time of night. John puts down his cup then, and thanks her for the intervention.

"I don't know what came over me," he says. "I didn't plan to do anything that foolish. It's just that sometimes his absence feels so large, as if it takes up the whole room, as if it swallows the whole world, and there seems to be no point in remaining here on an Earth that is so much less without him. Do you understand?"

Maddy nods.

"Each day I wake up and remember anew that he's gone. So, I don't want to go to sleep and have to feel that shock again. I don't want to feel that loss, but I do... every day. Every single day."

Maddy tries to smile, but fails. She wants to comfort him, to tell him that Sherlock is alive, and that he will see him again, but she can't. She promised that she would not tell him. So she nods her head and listens with an open heart to his pain.

If she hadn't lost the phone that Mr Holmes had given her, she could tell him how sad John is. Of how he had almost killed himself in grief. Then again, maybe it 's better that he doesn't know, because it surely would hurt him to know how pained his friend felt.

At least, now that she's met John, she can be here to help him, and he's helping her as well, giving her food when she's hungry.

The restaurant closes and the owners smile as they shepherd them out of the door. Maddy and John stand there abandoned in the still night, unsure of where life will take them. Then John turns and leads Maddy through the quiet streets to his flat. John opens the door to 221 Baker street and asks Maddy in, but she refuses.

"I wouldn't dare impose."

"Don't be ridiculous," John says. "Where else are you going to go?"

"I suppose that I'll go back to the bridge."

"Nonsense. You saved my life. I can't let you sleep under a bridge."

"I won't go alone into a man's apartment."

John looks genuinely shocked. "I'm not going to do anything to you," he says. "You have no place to stay, so I'm offering just that, a place for you to stay the night. Are you refusing my hospitality? You don't want to hurt my feelings do you?"

"I'm sorry," Maddy says. "but tonight has been hard for you. I understand that you feel generous now, but tomorrow things might be different. I don't want to force you into a situation where you want me to go but you are too embarrassed to ask. So no, I won't stay in your flat."

John turns at the sound of a door opening and a woman's voice calls from inside.

"John! Have you left the door open? There's a draft."

"Mrs Hudson, just the woman I want to see," John says smiling. "I was wondering if you could let my friend Maddy stay in 221C for a few days."

Maddy looks up, surprised, as John grabs her hand and pulls her into the flat letting the door slam shut behind her.

"That old place? I haven't had a chance to air it, and the mold..."

John puts an arm around Mrs. Hudson's shoulder leading her down the stairs to the basement flat "It's only for a few days, and you know that no one lives there."

Mrs Hudson leans over to whisper to John in a voice that nonetheless can clearly be heard by Maddy. "John, are you sure you know what you're doing? I'm a landlady, not a charity worker. I make my living _renting_ rooms."

"Please, Mrs Hudson," he lowers his voice, "I found her cold and wet on a bridge. I can't just let her sleep on the streets. She is my friend."

Mrs Hudson pulls her robe closer around her and purses her lips. "Well, I guess it will be okay for just one night, but heaven knows what there is for her to sleep on."

"Thank You, Mrs. Hudson," John says kissing her on the cheek. Mrs Hudson unlocks the door to 221C Baker Street, and turns on the light. She frowns at the state of the room. The flat is small, mostly just a room and a bathroom. Light from the street lamp shines in through a barred window. John walks in and cracks the window open to let some air into the room which smells strongly of mold.

"It's a bit stuffy in here, but just let it air out for a bit and it will be alright. I'm sure that I have some sheets and pillows in my flat. Can you do something about the heat in here, Mrs Hudson? It's like an icebox."

"I'll fire up the furnace. I was considering doing it anyway, this rain has been murder on my hip."

"Lovely," he says walking through the flat, to see if it suits. "And if you can bring down some bog paper and a few towels, that would be golden."

"Not your housekeeper," she says before walking out of the room to do just that.

John turns to Maddy then and motions to the floor. "I take it this won't offend your modesty. It's warmer and drier than the bridge, and you'll have a lock on your door."

"I didn't mean to say that..."

"No, no, it's fine. You just met me. It's understandable. Now let me get you a pillow and some blankets," he says before going upstairs to his flat.

Alone in the empty room, Maddy finally starts to relax. She breathes out a breath that she must have been holding since he first welcomed her in. Then she puts her bag on the floor and sits down on the dingy carpet. This probably isn't what Mr. Holmes had expected when he had asked her to watch over John. She listens through the open door to Mrs Hudson and John talking at the top of the stairs.

"Now John, you have a generous heart, but we can't just go taking in people off the streets. If we start feeding and housing street people, where will it all stop? She can stay the night, I wouldn't turn anyone out in this cold, but you'll need to find some other place for her to stay tomorrow."

"But Mrs Hudson..."

"Be reasonable. We know nothing about this girl? Is she a drug addict? a thief? How long have you known her?"

"Not long, but I will handle it."

"But John…."

"We'll talk tomorrow."

"Don't you forget to lock your door when you go to sleep!"

"Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson!"

"Well, Goodnight then," she says before going into her flat, the sound of the lock engaging audible even down the stairs.

Maddy moves from the door into the center of the room just as John gets to the bottom of the stairs. He enters the flat holding three blankets, a sheet, and two pillows. "I'm sorry that I don't have a bunk, but we can figure out something better tomorrow. "

"John," Maddy says. "Thank you, but you don't have to feel responsible for me."

John takes her hand and smiles. "You didn't have to feel responsible for me when I was on that bridge either, but you did, and I'm grateful. Whether you ask for it or not, you're my friend now, Maddy, and it's never a burden to help a friend."

Maddy finds her eyes tearing up. "Thank you," she says and she begins to arrange the blankets into a bed, more to hide her tears from him than a need to sleep. John lowers the window to a crack and then picks up the bag of toiletries that Mrs Hudson left outside the door, taking it into the bathroom. When he is satisfied, he goes to the door of the flat, turning back to look at her..

"Goodnight," he says. "We'll talk tomorrow morning." When he leaves, she puts her ear to the door, listening as he walks up the stairs to his room.

Maddy immediately thinks of bolting. She grabs her bag, and looks out into the hallway. She can get out now while no one is watching the door, but she knows that the streets outside are cold, and this room is rapidly becoming warmer. She closes and locks the door instead. She puts down her bag and turns out the light finding her cot by the light of the street lamp. Then she lays down and covers herself with the blankets until she is comfortable. Before she knows it, she is asleep.


	13. Plans go astray

Planning has never been a large part of Maddy's life. She tends to plan just far enough to get to the next place. It was that lack of long-range planning that had led to her living on the streets.

Abud had been a planner. He could see step after step of things that needed to be done. Maddy hardly believes that she can accomplish even one step in a plan, much less a dozen. It isn't that she has trouble thinking, Maddy is fairly smart, and never had trouble in school. Confidence is her problem. She finds it hard to believe that things will work for her, so she never plans for them to.

She doesn't know what she will do with her life now that she is alone again, but imposing on John Watson's hospitality seems wrong to her. He's grieving, and taking her in might just be a way to fill in the gap created by Sherlock Holmes' loss. It's like adopting a puppy when one's wife has died. It gives you something to take care of. A new relationship to distract from the loss of an old one. But if she lets him take her in, if she stays here with him, what will happen when Sherlock Holmes does return? What will it feel like to have a home and a place to stay only to be tossed out on the street again when things change?

She has to remember who she is, or at least who she is not. She is no relation to Dr. John Watson. She doesn't own anything here. She is a person with no home and no money, a person alone in the world. If that means that she has to live on the streets because she's crap at managing her life, then so be it. At least she got one good nights sleep in a warm flat with free bathroom access.

Maddy hears a knock on the door. She climbs to her feet and opens it. John Watson walks in.

"Sorry to wake you," he says, "but I have work at the surgery this morning. I thought that we could have a little breakfast together before I go, and since you are loathe to come alone into a man's apartment, I brought breakfast to you."

John puts down a tray. It has a pot of tea with two mugs, a plate with sausages, and toast piled high. Maddy smiles. She loves sausages.

"I would have made eggs, but I'm out. Forgot to buy any. I haven't been making many meals lately, but the sausages are fresh. I bought them two days ago, so no need to fear them being off. Sorry, I don't have any milk for the tea."

Maddy sits on the floor and stuffs her face with the good food. "Thank you," she says taking a cup of tea. John Watson smiles, and Maddy smiles back, and for a few moments they are just two friends sharing a meal together. When the meal is over, and the plates are clean, John lifts the tray, stands, and heads for the door. "I'll be right back," he says.

Maddy folds the blankets turning at a knock as John enters. "I'm off to work, but I'll be back around six. Just stay here. Don't leave. I'll talk to Mrs Hudson. Believe me, everything will be alright. Well, I must go or I'll be late. See you later, Maddy" he says.

"Goodbye John," Maddy says before closing the door.

Maddysits on a blanket in the room for a few hours, stalling. She stares at the mold stains on the wall imagining that they form a map of the world. She wonders where in the world Sherlock Holmes is now. Somewhere far away she's sure, because if he were in London, he would not have needed to give her such a charge. She remembers the darkened room, the ventilation fans humming in the background. The light from the city illuminating the profile of his face as he talked to her.

"I picked you, because I trust you Maddy. I trust you with my most important mission."

"What mission?"

"To watch over John," he had replied packing more emotion in his friend's name than she had ever before heard him express.

If there was any way that he could stay and guard his friend himself, he would have, but he was a man committed. A man who had made a decision and he had to use the tools at his disposal no matter how poor they were. Maddy could stay here in this building and fulfill his wish, watching as John comes and goes. She could pretend to be someone that she is not, a person with a future, a person with a real life.

She leans back against the wall enjoying the warmth for the last time because she knows that she can't do that. She is a homeless person, a worthless person, and this kind of charity isn't going to last. John Watson will come to his senses, or Mrs. Hudson will call the police, and she'll be in a worse situation than she had been yesterday. She won't take advantage of John Watson's kindness. She'll find another way.

Maddy stands up then, and after making sure the bedding is stacked neatly, she slings her bag over her shoulder and opens the door. She looks back into the room one more time wondering if this is another bad plan, before walking out. She nods at Mrs Hudson who lets her pass without a word as she leaves the flat.

The morning is overcast, but dry. She walks down the street wondering where to go next. If she can find a good corner, she might make enough money to leave central London. That will make it harder for John to find her when he comes looking that evening. She's deep in thought, trying to guess which corner would be the best at this time of day, and so she doesn't notice the black car driving slowly behind her. She walks into an alley to find that it is a dead end. When she gets back to the street, she sees the the richly dressed woman and the black car waiting for her. She jumps, looking toward the car to see her own fearful face reflected in the glass. The woman steps forward and holds out an envelope.

"Miss St. Martin. This is for you."

Maddy opens the envelope to find a white card with the letters MH embossed on the surface in black pearl. She opens the card and reads the handwritten note.

 _Dear Miss St. Martin,_

 _I am deeply mortified by my atrocious conduct in our previous meeting, and I would like to have the opportunity to make amends. Will you please do me the honor of accepting my invitation to luncheon today so that I may apologize for my actions in person._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Mycroft Holmes_

Maddy glances up at the woman who opens the door of the car for her. The beige leather interior looks to her like an open maw. There's no way to avoid it, and nowhere to run. She shrugs and climbs inside. If the note is true, she'll get a meal, and if it isn't. It's probably best that she not finish that thought. The other woman climbs inside shutting the door behind her and the car whisks her off for a meeting with Mycroft Holmes.


	14. Lunch with Mycroft Holmes

The richly-dressed woman with the perfectly coiffed dark hair takes Maddy into a huge hotel toilet with floor length mirrors and cloth handtowels.

"Put these on," she says handing Maddy stockings, a purple dress, and matching purple pumps.

"Why do I need to change?"

"Because where we are going, they have a dress code, and trainers and t-shirts don't meet it."

Maddy goes into a stall and changes her clothes. When she comes out, the woman sits her on a bench in front of one of the large mirrors and begins to brush her hair. It frizzes a bit, but with some hair spray she gets it to look tolerably well although she can't get rid of the kink formed by her having wrapped it up tightly at her neck for so long.

The woman takes a towel, wets the edge, and washes Maddy's face. Maddy thinks of objecting, but something about the woman reminds her of her stern second grade teacher who could silence a class with a glare. She draws back when the woman runs a black pencil across her eye brows, but stills when she gives her the same look that she'd got when she'd tried to read a book under her desk during Math class.

The woman puts a little blush and some lip gloss on her and then stands back to look at her work. "For you, I think that less is more," she says before pulling Maddy to her feet. When she tries to take Maddy's bag from her, she resists. Her clothes, her life, it's all in this bag.

"You'll get it back," the woman says tugging at the sack so that Maddy's citrine bracelet falls to the floor. Maddy bends down to grab it. She slides the precious thing onto her wrist and then grabs back her bag.

"I'm not going without my bag," Maddy says stubbornly.

The woman narrows her eyes at her, and sighs before upending the contents of her own large designer purse onto the counter. She takes Maddy's bag and shoves it inside of her purse handing it to Maddy with an exasperated expression that only heightens her resemblance to her former teacher.

The woman leads Maddy out of the room and into an elegant restaurant. They are high in a skyscraper, and all around them are views of the city. People in fine clothes sit chattering with each other at tables dressed with white tablecloths. The room sparkles with glass, silverware, and gold salt and pepper shakers. There are chandeliers made of panes of glittering glass, while crystal wine glasses reflect the blue-white shapes of passing clouds.

Maddy weaves her way through the tables her heavy bag pounding against her thigh as she tries to remember how to walk in high-heels. She feels like a bull in a china shop. She is sure that everyone must be staring. The woman leads her around a glowing wooden bar, stocked with all kinds of decorative bottles. After passing several empty tables, they turn a corner and she sees the rich man with the chain in his waistcoat sitting behind a table set with gold and white china. She frowns.

The man stands as she approaches the table. She stands in front of her chair, sitting only when the woman pushes the chair forward so that her knees buckle. She turns to look at the woman, but she is already walking away effortless on her own even higher heels. A waiter pours water into her glass and steps away. There is nothing for it then but to look at the man who sits across from her, an oddly fake smile on his lips.

"I suppose that we have never been formally introduced," he says. "I know that your name is Madeline St. Martin and that you come from the United States of America. I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes' brother."

Maddy looks at the man in the dark suit. He's meticulously groomed in a white shirt with a wide yellow tie. His brown hair has a widow's peak and is swept to the right in one sculpted bang. His eyebrows arch over blue eyes and a long pointed nose. His thin lips turn down at the edges, as if his natural expression is a frown. Their slight curve matches the roundness of all his features. His curved ears, his curved stomach, his curved neck sticking tall out of his collar like a proud ostrich. His lips invert into a smile as he leans forward. It looks calculated, as if he read somewhere that doing so will make him appear more friendly. It doesn't.

So the man with the chain on his waistcoat is Mycroft Holmes? He says that he is the brother of Sherlock Holmes. She had suspected as much when she saw his name on the card. She stares at him trying to see some resemblance to the man with the coat.

"You're Mr. Holmes' brother."

"Sherlock Holmes' brother, yes."

"Do you have any proof?" Maddy asks.

"Excuse me? What did you want?"

"Show me some I.D."

A frown crosses the man's face for a moment before resuming its mildly pleasant expression. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wallet fat with credit cards. He slides a card across the table to her, and she reads it. It says that Mycroft Holmes is a British citizen born in London, and it has a picture of his face. She looks at his birthdate. He looks older than he is. Perhaps it's the clothes. He dresses like a Victorian banker. Maddy passes the card back.

"Miss St. Martin," he begins. "Please allow me to apologize for my previous actions. I have always been a bit... over-protective of my brother, and I assumed that you were someone that you are not. Please forgive me."

Maddy looks down at the white china plates, one stacked over another. The napkins are folded like fans. She looks up again to find him staring at her. He's waiting, for what? A 'don't mention it' perhaps? That's not going to happen.

She stares into his cold blue-grey eyes, watching his thin lips tighten back into their false smile. He's still waiting. Suddenly he does remind her of the man in the coat. His stillness and determination are the same. She can believe that they are brothers.

But she's lived on the street too long to think that being family automatically means that you are trustworthy. She would certainly not want anyone to give information about her to her step-father simply because he's her family. Maddy reaches out for the napkin and places it on her lap. Mycroft Holmes finally turns away. He raises his hand, and the waiter comes forward filling their second glass with wine.

Bread is placed on the table and in front of her are set some small mushrooms in an orange sauce. Maddy looks at them. The man explains that they are truffles in a velouté sauce then he lifts his fork and begins eating. Maddy eats some bread.

"Won't you try some?" he asks.

"I don't like mushrooms," Maddy replies.

Next they are served fish with the eyes still on. Maddy can't eat anything that stares back at her. Luckily, they keep refilling the bread. Next come oysters which Maddy won't eat because,Yuck! She can't stand the thought of food sliding down her throat. She tries to eat some of the salad, but the greens are too bitter, so she sucks on a lemon instead.

Next they bring out an assortment of soft French cheeses which Maddy eyes with distrust. Once Maman Mildred had brought home some Bree. She had raved about the stuff so much that Maddy had shoved a large slice into her mouth as if it were pie. It wasn't sweet. She'd opened her mouth then letting it drop onto the floor, and Mildred had given her a good scolding for it. This time, Maddy left the cheese alone.

Next comes a dessert with bananas. It looks very promising until they set it on fire. Maddy had been in a house fire as a child. The smell of smoke makes her panic and totally throws off her appetite.

Mycroft eats his banana flambé with a knife and a fork. He wipes the corner of his mouth, and takes a sip of what he calls a dessert wine before saying. "My dear Miss St. Martin, I appear not to have been a good host. I have offered you a six course French meal, but you have eaten only bread and water at my table. A prisoner eats better, and you haven't even had a sip of your wine."

"I don't drink," Maddy says.

"Then shall I call for tea?" Mycroft whispers a few words to the waiter who clears the table.

The room is empty now as lunchtime has passed. Maddy looks out at the busy city and then over to the man who acts as if he has nowhere better to be. "Mr. ...uh ...Mr. Holmes," Maddy says. "Don't you have some kind of work that you do?"

He smiles his pleasant meaningless smile again. "I have a minor position in the British Government," he says.

"Then won't your boss mind that you're spending so much time at lunch?" she asks. "Or do you even have a boss?" He frowns.

Just then the tea arrives. The waiter serves her tea with sugar and lemon. Mycroft Holmes has his tea with milk but no sugar.

Maddy takes a sip. It's very good. When she looks up, his eyes are locked onto her face. She puts down her tea cup and asks, "What exactly is it that you want?"

"I want to find my brother," Mycroft says in a surprisingly direct tone.

"Why?"

Mycroft smiles. "No, protestations that he is dead, no denials simply 'why?' Very good Miss St. Martin. I like your directness. Such directness warrants honesty in return. You see, my brother is impulsive," Mycroft says sitting back and placing his fingertips together as he talks. "He tries to do things by himself that can only truly be done on a larger scale. He seeks to fight Moriarty's entire organization single-handedly like Don Quixote charging at windmills. I lost my brother once. I won't lose him again, not due to his own stupidity."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me where he is, and if that is not possible, I want you to find him for me. I would be willing to offer you a modest sum of money for this. In your case, the sum would not be modest. I suppose that you could call it 'a living'. In fact one can live quite well on what I will pay."

"What would I need to do?"

He smiles then, resting his chin on his fists. "You would go among your friends and contacts and ask around. Find his trail, and report back to me."

"What if I don't have any friends?"

He lowers his hands, and sits up. "I don't mean ' _friends_ ' the way Sherlock and John Watson mean 'friends' as people who would take a bullet for each other. I mean 'friends' the way that you and I mean 'friends', as people who are generally well disposed to talk, people that one can use."

"I don't think that I can help you," Maddy says.

"Madeline," Mycroft Holmes says tilting his head and pinning her with his stare. "You were the last person to see my brother alive. You MUST help me find him."

"I don't think that I _can_ find him," Maddy says.

"If you can not find him, perhaps he will seek to find you."

Maddy sits back in her chair and looks down at her feet in the borrowed purple shoes that somehow are exactly her size. She points her toes in, tapping them together while she touches the citrine bracelet with her fingertips. "Mr. Holmes, wait that feels wrong ... can I call you Mycroft? Sherlock Holmes is Mr. Holmes to me."

Mycroft Holmes nods although his mouth is pursed tightly as if he wants very much to say no.

"Mycroft," she begins again, "Mr. Holmes found me on the street and paid me to do work for him. He does this all of the time to people that he meets. The fact that he paid me money doesn't mean that he cares about me, or that he would seek me out. I was just there when he needed someone. I am nobody special."

Mycroft laughs a low laugh, "I'm sorry, Miss St. Martin, but you do not understand my brother. The number of people that Sherlock trusts can be counted on one hand. Somehow you have found your way into this number, and you say that you are 'nobody special'?"

"I don't understand why you think that I can find him when you can't."

Mycroft glares across the table pointing at her chest. "You! Sherlock trusted you!" he says. "He left his friends and family to think that he was dead, but he gave you a phone to contact him by. Don't you think that makes you special? My brother does not make friends easily."

"I think you are wrong," Maddy says. "Among the homeless, your brother is well thought of."

"Enough of this," he says waving her objection away. "I want you to work for me. I want you to help me find my brother."

"I can't," Maddy says. "I can't help you. I can't promise you anything."

"I thought that I had lost my only brother. You have convinced me that he is alive, and I am gratified to know that I am not alone in the world, but you are the only link that I have to him. I must insist that you help me find him."

Maddy looks at the man. He had been cold before, but now he seems warm and passionate. Even so, Maddy doesn't know him, and many an abusive husband looks just as passionate in search of a wife that has left him. She remembers the chill in his eyes when they'd talked in that cold white house. She leans away from him. "No," she says. "No, I won't help you. I think that I need to go now." She stands.

Mycroft rests his chin on his hands. The cold eyes are back as he says, "You know that you are in this country illegally."

Maddy freezes.

"You entered this country on a tourist visa which has since expired. Also, there is a Jacob Bartholemew of North Carolina who claims that you stole a large sum of money from him."

"That was my mother's money!" Maddy says.

"That decision is for the American courts. I fear that if you were to leave this place and go back onto the streets, then the immigration officials might find you. That would indeed be...unfortunate."

Maddy feels cornered. Mycroft gives her a Cheshire cat smile, "I'm sorry Miss St. Martin. I'm going to have to ask you to accept my hospitality for a little while longer."

He motions, and a very tall man in a tailored suit comes to lead her away. As she follows the man, she turns back to look at Mycroft, thinking that he must be gloating and triumphant that he has captured her, but he sits slumped down in his chair, looking small and sad with wrinkles of worry covering his brow.

"This way please, miss." The tall man says to get her attention. She leaves with him then, not knowing where she is going, or where she will end up. But then again that's no different than any other day.


	15. A Guilded Cage

Maddy paces around the expensive hotel room. It's a suite with a living room, bedroom, and bath. She peeks through the entrance and sees two men standing on either side of the door. They turn to face her, so she smiles at them and closes it with a click. The phone works, but who can she call? If she calls the police, they might identify her and deport her. She sits down and looks out of the window at the city below.

When Maddy was a little girl she had wanted to be a princess. Then when she was nine her mother had bought her a book about the lives of real princesses, and she had learned that real princesses were forced to marry men that they did not love, sent to places against their will for political reasons, and sometimes they were beheaded or shot. Right now Maddy feels like a real princess.

Even so there is enough of the little girl in her to appreciate the wonder of this beautiful place. The suite is lavish with plush curtains and soft couches. A dish full of oranges sits on the table, and the sunken bath has whirlpool sprayers. She soaks in the water for a long time wondering if she will ever in her life have access to such a bath again.

They've provided clothes for her to wear. The closet is full of suits and dresses. The drawers even have bras and underwear. The woman with the good hair must have a really good eye for sizes, because they all seem to fit, even though they look much too formal for any place that she would go. Even the night gown is floor length pink satin with a matching robe. She puts it on when she comes out of the bath and ties the sash. Wearing it makes her feel like a forties movie star.

No one comes for Maddy until seven that evening when a knock on the door reveals a man pushing a cart full of food. Luckily this food is much easier to eat: a hamburger with _pommes frites_ the card next to the plate states. Mycroft seems to have learned from the lunch fiasco.

Sitting alone in the room is pleasant for Maddy. One would think that one is often alone living on the streets, but that's not true. One is often lonely, but there are people around every corner in the city. Finding a nook or a crevice to call your own takes work. And if you can find it, someone else had probably found it first and takes exception to your being there. Maddy lays on the bed and tries to go to sleep, but it eludes her. She sits up and brushes her hair.

There are many toiletries in the bathroom. Maddy has already stashed soap, toilet paper, shampoo, a toothbrush and toothpaste in her bag beside the bedroom door. The brush is an unexpected coup. Probably a gift from the woman whose purse she still has. After about 200 strokes the kink in her hair from years of tying it up is finally gone and it lays lightly around her shoulders longer than she had guessed it would be.

Her hair had been just past her ears when she had boarded the plane over a year ago with her passport and her ticket paid for by her mother's money. The money that her mother had set aside for her college fund. The money that That Man had threatened to buy a boat with, telling her that if she wanted to go to some useless college then she'd better find herself a job. And because Mother hadn't written a will, and he had been her husband, it was all going to be transferred to him. But she was always the one that mother sent to the bank, and she still had access to the account, until it changed hands. So she had taken the money and left.

Now, the money is gone, spent on hostels and meals, and endless little costs, until the last of it was lost when her luggage was stolen. In the end, she didn't go to college, or even finish high school. Instead she's become a professional beggar who occasionally sings for her supper, although she hasn't so much as listened to music since Abud died.

Maddy tries again to sleep on the bed, a large confection covered with a canopy that she stares at for hours until she can clearly make out its edges even with the lights off. She listens to the quiet tick, tick, ticking of the alarm clock thinking that it might drive her crazy. Frustrated, she gets up from the bed, pulls the blanket around her, and sleeps on the floor scrunched up against the wall.

She wakes when a stream of sunlight strikes her face, struggling for a moment to remember where she is. She revels in the fact that she doesn't have to wait for the stores to open to go to the bathroom. As she is washing her hands she hears a ringing noise. She walks into the main room of the suite and stares at the telephone ringing there. Is she supposed to answer that? Before she can make up her mind it stops, and there is a knock at the door.

Maddy pulls the robe shut around her and walks to the door. She opens it, and a man comes in wheeling a cart. He clears the table and lays down a tablecloth before putting out a breakfast display of trays of food covered with silver lids and even a centerpiece made of fruit. It is much more food than Maddy can eat even though she's still hungry.

The man leaves the room, and Maddy is tasting a chunk of pineapple when the phone rings startling her so that she drops it. This time, Maddy answers.

"Hello," she says.

"Madeline, this is Mycroft. I'm on my way up. I ordered breakfast delivered. Has it arrived yet?"

"Yes," she replies hesitantly.

"Good. I have some matters that I wish to discuss with you. I hope that you won't mind if I join you for breakfast."

"Uh."

"Thank you, I'll be there shortly." Mycroft says before hanging up.

Maddy panics. She doesn't want to meet Mycroft Holmes wearing a night gown. There had been clothes in the room when she had arrived. She hadn't really looked at them. She rushes into the bedroom, opening the wardrobe and tossing clothes on the bed. All of them are excessively formal. In the end she wears a dress that she can pull on quickly. It's floor length and green. It looks like an evening gown. She pulls it on. The fabric is stretchy and clingy. She catches her hair in the zipper. Then she pulls it out, and trips over the hem. She reaches for her brush, to put her hair into some kind of shape, then she puts her bracelet on her wrist just as she hears a knock at the door.

Maddy walks across the carpet barefoot stumbling a bit over the gown's train. She places her hand on the door knob and opens it. Mycroft stands in the hallway wearing a dark grey striped suit and carrying an umbrella. His eyebrows raise as he looks her up and down, a tiny smile on his lips.

"Why good morning Madeline. You look remarkably well today," he says. "How are you feeling?"

Maddy doesn't quite know what to say so she asks, "Am I really a prisoner here?"

"A prisoner?" Mycroft says closing the door firmly behind him. "Why Madeline, whatever gave you that idea?"

"You said that I would get deported if I left."

"I most certainly did not," Mycroft replies. "In fact it is your visa that I wish to talk to you about this morning. I am working on getting you a valid one. Here is a temporary visa until a more permanent one can be arranged. Do you still have your passport?"

"No."

"Then I will contact the U.S. Embassy and see if they can get you a new one. Yours was issued when you were ten and renewed when you were fifteen I believe, so it will not run out until next year. You are nineteen aren't you?"

Maddy was surprised. Somehow she had forgotten her birthday.

"But this can all be handled later. Your breakfast is getting cold. Let me make you a plate."

Mycroft takes the lid off of the breakfast dishes and begins to serve Maddy.

"Too much!" She objects as he piles the plate high with Kedgeree.

"Nonsense," Mycroft says glancing down at her. "You are much too thin." He adds a few pieces of fruit and passes her the plate. She takes it and sits at the table beside him.

Then Mycroft takes a small gold box out of his pocket and slides it across to her. Maddy looks down at the package suspiciously. This reminds her of a war movie that she had seen about a woman and a German general. It had ended with the woman being pushed through the streets with her hair shorn off. She opens the box to find her phone. The phone that Sherlock had given her, the one that Mycroft had taken from her. She drops her fork and types in the password. She's surprised to find that her personalized background has returned even though she had deleted it.

She searches and finds that it has all of her deleted ringtones and the phone numbers that she'd deleted are restored.

She looks up at Mycroft. "How?" she asks.

Mycroft smiles. "Deleting things is not quite as final as most people think."

Maddy looks at the phone numbers. Angela's number is here, as well as Sherlock's old phone number. There were some differences however. The messages from before Sherlock's death are gone. Only the ones that she had sent to Sherlock about John remain. John Watson's number is here as well as one labeled MH. She glances from the phone to Mycroft.

"I took the liberty of adding my own number if you don't mind," he says. He's been looking over her shoulder the entire time.

Maddy remembers getting John's number. They had been sitting on the blankets, and Maddy was leaning against the wall beginning to doze when Sherlock had asked her for her phone. He punched in a number and stared at it for a long time before pushing save.

"Whose number is this?" Maddy had asked.

"It's John's number." Sherlock had said.

"So are you going to want me to call him?"

"No, never. You mustn't call him."

"Then why are you giving me the number?"

"Just in case you have to," Sherlock said before turning his face away from her and lying down to sleep.

Now that she had met John, the number meant something to her as well, but she still didn't want to call him and get him involved in her problems. Not finding any pockets in the dress, she shoves the phone down between her breasts. Mycroft gives her a strange look and then continues eating his breakfast.

He has Maddy sign some paperwork for the visa application and then rises to leave.

"Where is the woman who I met before, I want to give her back her purse," Maddy says.

"Don't bother," Mycroft replies. "I will reimburse her. The purse is yours, as are any of the clothes that we have placed here for your convenience. I have rented this room for three nights, so feel free to come and go as if it is your own. We can find you more permanent accommodations when you come on payroll."

"On payroll? But..."

"Madeline, haven't you guessed by now that I won't take 'no' for an answer? Here is my card. When you are ready to discuss the terms of your appointment call my secretary." Mycroft opens the door. The two guards are gone. He turns back and takes Maddy's hand in his. Then, he kisses it. "It was a pleasure," he says. Then he turns and walks down the hall toward the elevator. Maddy watches him leave. He twirls his umbrella once and flashes a smile at her before the elevator doors close. She covers her face with her hand glad that only she and the maid pushing a cart down the hall are present to see her blush.

Maddy stands for a moment barefoot in the hallway wondering if she is really free to leave. Then she runs back inside letting the door slam behind her as she rushes to get out of this place before he changes his mind.

She thinks of putting on her old clothes, but she takes Mycroft at his word and puts on the least conspicuous of the clothes in the flat. They are a pair of close-fitting jeans and a blue and white sweater.

While searching the purse she finds a hidden pocket containing a key card. It probably opens a door at some government building, but which one? She looks at the business card that Mycroft had given her. It lists his address and his office number. One day, she might need to use this.

Maddy turns off the phone and slides it, the key card, and the business card in a plastic bag that had been used to hold the soap in the bathroom. Then she hides them in her trouser's bulky waistband. She wraps a days worth of food in a dinner napkin, grabs her things, and leaves the room taking the stairs down, not the elevator, and looking both ways to make sure the hallway is clear before making her way out to the street.

Maddy doesn't like being caged no matter how pretty the cage is. It's nice to visit such a place once, but now she needs to get far away from Sherlock's controlling older brother. Madeline's feet clatter across the pavement in the purple pumps that she's decided to keep. She isn't sure where she's going other than away. She looks behind her often for tall men, richly dressed women, and black cars.

She stops to rest at a coffee shop, and when she asks for water, the waitress actually smiles at her as she serves it instead of complaining about how only paying customers should be allowed to take up tables. She digs through her bag and pulls out a coin purse. She has five pounds fifty. She puts it back, and pulls a muffin out of her stash, eating it with the water. She goes to the bathroom and leaves without returning to the table. It isn't illegal to do so, though it may be rude.

She's walking down a side street when a white van pulls up beside her. The door slides open and a man gets out. The window rolls down, and Maddy recognizes the maid from the hotel.

"Is this her? Holmes' mistress?" the man asks.

The woman nods. Then the man grabs her, covering her mouth with his hand as he drags her into the van. The door slams shut, and they carry her away.


	16. Out of the frying pan

Lying on the floor of a small yellow room with her hands and feet tied and a piece of tape over her mouth, Maddy wonders why everyone keeps mistaking her for someone that she is not. It isn't as if she's remarkable. She is not too tall or too short. She has always tried to be unobtrusive, and yet Mycroft Holmes mistook her for Sherlock's bosom pal, and these kidnappers have mistaken her for Mycroft's mistress.

She's seen four of the kidnappers since she arrived: The woman, two thugs, and the man who had pulled her into the van. He appears to be the leader. Her hands are firmly bound, and she feels a little sick from the bad tasting tape over her mouth.

One of the thugs looks down at her as she lays against the wall. "Is that the kind of girl that rich blokes like?" he asks. "She don't look like much to me."

"What do you expect her to look like?" thug two says.

"I don't know, I just thought that he'd want someone, you know, more sexy."

"She might be sexy," thug two says. " You can't always tell by looking."

"Uh, yes you can."

"I mean who knows what kind of techniques she has. I hear that those professional girls know tricks that can blow a man's mind."

The two of them turned and looked down at Maddy crumpled on the floor. She wiggled her feet to increase the circulation and her left shoe fell off.

Thug one said. "She looks pretty tame to me."

"Well that might be what she does then. She could be one of those 'obedient' girls. You know. The kind that are into all that kinky fifty shades stuff. She doesn't look like much now, but she might look hot in leather straps."

"Nah, he wouldn't want no one submissive," thug one replies. "I've heard that those powerful government types all like to be spanked. They want those dominatin' women, you know, the ones with whips and really sharp heels."

"It doesn't matter what they like," thug two says. "All that matters is that we have her, and he'll want to get her back."

They turn as the door opens and the boss comes in. He looks down at Maddy and then gestures to the thugs. "Pick her up," he says pulling out a phone. "Let's see how Mycroft Holmes likes seeing his lady bound and gagged." The two men glance at each other grinning before picking Maddy up by her elbows and helping her stand. The man takes a picture of her face.

"Look more worried. Look more scared," the man orders, but Maddy can't look scared. Being scared means that she has something to fear. There is no fear, only certainty that she's going to die. If they are relying on that cold, cold man to lift a finger to save her life, they will be disappointed. She's nothing to Mycroft Holmes. She sits quietly hoping that they will be content to toss her out on the street as soon as they learn that she has no value. She is worthless.

The leader snaps another picture of her and then says, "She looks pretty wilted. Give her some water or something so she'll look better on the video. We want him crying over her."

"But boss, do you really think that this Holmes guy has the power to release Delf from prison?"

"My information came from the highest authority. Mycroft Holmes has much more power in fact, than he has on paper. We get to him, and we can have whatever we want. You don't know how long I've been looking for his weakness, so get that girl looking decent before I get back. I'm going to drop this picture off somewhere conspicuous."

"Alright boss," thug two says as he leaves "Hey, untie her," he tells the other one. "Give her some water."

The man unties her feet and mouth, but keeps her hands tied behind her. He holds a water bottle to her lips. It spills down her front.

"Now look at what you've done!" thug two said. "She can't have that stain on the video. We're going to have to dry that shirt.

"May I go to the bathroom," Maddy asks, her voice quiet and cracking.

"Should we?" thug one asks.

"Yeah, let her go clean up."

The man unties her hands, and she rubs her wrists as he shoves her into a small room with a toilet, a sink and little else.

"This door don't lock," he says, "so don't get any ideas."

As soon as the door is closed Maddy begins looking around the room. She climbs up onto the toilet and tries to wedge herself out of the small window. She can get an arm out, or her head, but she can't fit through. The window looks out onto an empty lot between buildings. She's on a lower floor, but not the ground floor. It looks like an abandoned office block. Those weren't her area. She doesn't recognize it at all.

She climbs down and feels for the bulge in her waistband that is her phone. She pulls it out, silencing all the sounds. She can call for help, but who will she call, Mycroft? She just escaped from him. Calling him would give him power over her again. She would owe him, and then he'd insist that she help him.

But what Mycroft wants is something that she will not do. Sherlock gave his life and his reputation to get the freedom to leave, the chance to find the people threatening the ones he loves. He made a big choice, and Maddy respects that. There's no way that she'll try to trick him into returning to his old problems, and she would lay down money that Mycroft is one of his old problems. Doing that would be like someone dragging her back to North Carolina to live with her step-father. That time passed long ago. There's no turning back now.

But then, who can she call for help? Angela is in another city. Abud is dead. She has no one.

Suddenly, the grief that Maddy has been suppressing wells up inside of her. She squats down on the bathroom floor and cries. Abud must have been in this kind of situation. So had Marianne. Things had suddenly turned bad, and they had needed to face the fact that they were about to die. Mycroft said that someone named Moriarty did it. He also said that Moriarty never did these sort of things himself. That means that Abud's killer is probably still out there somewhere.

Then again, what did it really matter who killed Abud. All that matters is that he's dead, and she will never see him again. She grasps her legs with her arms wanting someone to talk to about it, then she remembers, she can call John. John will help her!

Maddy turns the faucet so that the sound of running water fills the room, then she texts John.

[JOHN PLEASE HELP ME!}

A few moments later, the phone vibrates showing that a call is coming in. She climbs on the toilet and thrusts her arm and head out of the window to take the call.

"Hello? Who is it? How did you get this number," John says in rapid succession.

"John, it's Maddy, I need help."

It takes a while of trying to read street signs and identify landmarks, before she finally turns on her phone's location services and reads out the GPS coordinates. She looks back at the door nervously. She knows that the men will be coming for her soon.

"Stay calm," John says. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

Maddy walks out of the bathroom upright and stiff-lipped secure in the knowledge that her kidnappers will not notice the black scarf fluttering in the breeze outside of the bathroom window signaling where she is.

"She's pepped up a bit," thug two says looking her over. "Sit her in the chair over there until the boss returns."

The boss never does return. Less than an hour later, the door is kicked in, and three people are taken away in police cars.

Maddy finds herself sitting on the back of an emergency van sipping a box of juice with an orange blanket on her shoulders. John stands beside her.

A man walks over and introduces himself as DI Lestrade. He pats John on the shoulder and says, "John, it's good to be working with you again. It's been a while."

"Yeah," John says. "I've not really had much cause to go to crime scenes. Not since..."

"Yeah, I know," Lestrade says. "Everything's been a bit cockeyed since Sherlock's death."

At the name, Sherlock, John blinks and turns his head away.

"There's been all hell down at the Yard. All of the cases that Sherlock solved are up for review. That Reilly piece got people fired up. And the superintendent was all for it after Sherlock, you know, took you hostage and all that. It's a right mess.

"The sad thing is, I still need him. There are new cases everyday. Cases that he could have solved in minutes, but they sit there unsolved. I could use your input if you have the time, unofficially of course. It would do me a load of good if you could just come over to talk from time to time. Maybe work on a few cases?"

"I'm not Sherlock," John says. "I'm not the genius. I'm just...me."

"Just because you're not Sherlock doesn't mean you don't have years of experience solving crimes," Lestrade adds, "Come on John, I'm desperate!"

John looks up into the detective's eyes and then nods. "I think that I might like that," he says. Lestrade grins broadly then and pats him on the back.

"Glad to have your help. I'll call you tomorrow. Lots to do tonight. Apparently this group was planning all kinds of mayhem. I've got to take some more photos. Call in some people. Anyway, look forward to having that talk," he says, then he walks off.

Maddy takes another sip of juice. "So Maddy, I'm going home. You can come and stay over tonight, or I can take you anywhere you like. Do you have somewhere to go, Maddy?"

Maddy thinks about the expensive hotel room. _'I have rented this room for three nights,'_ Mycroft had said, _'so feel free to come and go as if it is your own.'_

"Yes," Maddy said. "I would like to stay over at your flat tonight, if it's alright with you." John is looking fixedly at something in the distance.

"Is something wrong?" Maddy asks. "What is it, John? What do you see?"

"It's nothing important," he says. "Just a black car waiting. I thought that it might be ... someone that I know. I just couldn't understand why he'd come."

Maddy turns and looks. She recognizes that car. She takes off the blanket letting John help her down. When she looks up again, the car is driving away.

They take a taxi to his flat. Mrs Hudson frowns as they climb the stairs up to his rooms, but she doesn't object.

"You can sleep on the couch," he says. "Bathroom's over there, kitchen is there. I'll make us some tea."

"My clothes!" Maddy cries looking around for her bag.

"I've talked to Lestrade. As soon as they've gone over everything that needs be held in evidence, they'll give it back to you. Until then, I'll ask Mrs Hudson if she's got anything for you to wear."

John goes downstairs leaving Maddy to sit on the battered couch. She feels her empty pockets. All that she has now are the clothes that she is wearing and her phone. She pulls her knees to her chest, and hides her face.

 _'It isn't like I've left anything particularly valuable,'_ she thinks. _'The only things that I'd want back are my scarf and my Snow Queen book.'_ The silk scarf is probably still dangling from the window. She hopes they found it. she'd liked it almost as much as the phone. Sherlock had given her the book as well. How is it that three of her most valued possessions in the world had come from a man who she had spent less than twelve hours with?

She hid the phone back in her waistband and lay on the couch. Soon she was asleep.

.

 _Maddy was ten, sitting in the kitchen of their London house. Her Mother was cooking, then Maman Mildred knocked on the door and came in. "How is that Lemon custard coming along?" Mildred had asked._

 _"Horrible," Mother said. "I just don't have the knack for making custard."_

 _"Oh, let me help you," she said sliding her hand around the pot handle and taking Mother's place at the stove. She looked up and smiled. "Hi there little Maddy, how are you?" she said just as Suzanna rushed through the door._

 _"Maman, Maman!" Suzanna cried._

 _"Suzanna?!" Mildred said, "Did you even knock? Go out of that door and try to enter again like a civilized little girl."_

 _Suzanna sighed and walked out of the door. She knocked._

And Maddy wakes up face down on the floor by the couch in John's flat.

"Suzanna!" she says. "How could I have forgotten about Suzanna?"


	17. Realities and Rememberence

Maddy finds herself lying face down on the red rug, a blanket stretches from her shoulders to the vacant couch. She sits up.

She's in a strange flat. As she looks out at the streetlight shining through the curtained window, she remembers seeing this window from the other side. This is Sherlock Holmes' flat at 221B Baker street.

A door opens and light streams from the bedroom as John Watson enters wearing pajama's and a striped robe. "Maddy, is something wrong?" he asks. "I heard a cry. Did you have a nightmare?"

Maddy gets up off of the floor. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asks.

"No," John says. "I was just doing a bit of reading."

John turns on a lamp and then closes the door to the bedroom. Maddy sits back on the couch, and John sits in his chair which he turns toward her. "I'm glad that you're awake though," he says, "because we have a few things to talk about."

"What?" Maddy asks preoccupied. She's clasping her necklace. "I'm sorry. My dream, it was...I dreamed of my mother. I haven't done that in a long time."

John crosses his legs like a therapist and says, "Tell me about your dream."

Maddy bites her lip, looks into the darkness, and remembers. "It was from my childhood. It felt like a memory, but I don't know if it really ever happened. It was from the time when we lived in London. We moved here so that dad could work, but he was always away. We lived in a flat next to Maman Mildred and her granddaughter, Suzanna. My mother was so confused by everything here: The stores, the food, the transportation. Our neighbor helped us. She told us to call her Maman Mildred, and she was like a Grandmother to me. "

"What happened in your dream?"

"Nothing much. Mom was cooking, and Mildred came over to help her, but Suzanna... I had forgotten that Suzanna even existed. Suzanna was eleven when I last saw her. Her mother had died the year before, and so she'd come to live with her grandmother, but then her real father heard what had happened, and he took her away to live with his family. I guess in my mind, Suzanna will always be eleven, but she's about my age really. When I came back to London, I went to see Maman Mildred; but by the time I got to her here, she was already dead. I didn't think that I knew anyone else here at all, but Suzanna must live somewhere around here. I'm sure she'll remember me. For a brief time, we were like sisters."

"So you have a friend here?" John asks, "Someone that can help you?"

"No," Maddy says the wonder of the dream leaving her face. "It's been years since I last saw her. I don't even remember her father's last name. It was a nice thought, but there's no way that I can find her after all of these years."

John leans forward clasping his hands and smiling. " _You_ might not know how to find her," he says, "but I might be able to. You forget that I have been a detective for the last two years."

Maddy turns toward him, hope in her eyes. "John, do you really think that you can find her? Oh, it would mean so much. If there's anything that I can do, anything that you need from me, just ask."

"Well there is something that I would like to ask you," he says seriously.

"Ask anything."

"How did you get my phone number?"

Maddy stills. She can't tell him that Sherlock gave it to her without John insisting that she tell him the entire story. Mycroft had only needed to see the phone to know that Sherlock was still alive. She can't be truthful and keep Sherlock's promise, but how else can she keep John's trust? She needs to tell John something that he will believe, and fast.

John's eyes are becoming increasingly hard, and his expression passes from curiosity to suspicion. She says the first thing that comes into her head. "Mycroft Holmes gave it to me," she says.

John sits up, "Mycroft? How do you know Mycroft Holmes?"

Maddy knows that honesty is supposed to be the best solution, but how can she talk about why Mycroft is interested in her without mentioning Sherlock? She does her best.

"When I left your flat the other day, Mycroft had me picked up. He thought that I was a spy for someone named Moriarty."

"And are you a spy for Moriarty?" John asks.

"No!" Maddy says strongly. "No, I am not a spy! I told that to Mycroft, but he wouldn't let me go. He locked me up in this expensive hotel room. Eventually I got out, and then someone kidnapped me. I think that they thought that Mycroft and I were ... involved somehow."

John moves his mouth slowly as if tasting the words before he says them aloud. " _Mycroft_ wouldn't let you go? You call him _Mycroft_? I can understand how they might think that you were close if you call him by his first name."

"Uh, yeah, well," Maddy says, "I asked him if it was alright to call him that, and he said it was okay."

John's face contorts into a number of strange expressions before he speaks again. "Are we talking about the same man? Mycroft Holmes. Tall, pompous, waistcoat, snobby expression, this man lets you call him by his first name?"

"Yes."

"And he gave you my personal number?"

Maddy hesitates a moment on the lie. "Yes," she says.

"Bloody hell!" John cries sitting back in his chair.

"What's wrong?"

"Either you are deep in the middle of some seriously convoluted covert operation, or Mycroft Holmes likes you."

It was Maddy's turn to gape. "What do you mean?"

John regards her closely as if looking to see what Mycroft's type looks like.

"Please tell me, what do you mean?" Maddy asks again more insistently.

"I mean that Mycroft Holmes is not the kind of man to give information to anyone freely, not unless he wants something. I lived with his brother, and everything between them was a chess game. He gave nothing away unless he wanted something in return. What did he want from you, and why give you my number? I hope he's not trying to get something from me, because I'm done with Mycroft. I won't play games with him anymore."

"What did you mean by 'covert operation'?"

"I meant that normally, charity is not something that ever crosses his mind. He wouldn't give you a crust of bread, much less put you in a posh hotel room. He must have been using you. You must have arrived at a convenient time for him. That kidnapping was no accident. That's why the black car was at the crime scene. He expected it. Mycroft Holmes expected you to be kidnapped."

"You mean, he planned it?" Maddy asks getting angry.

"Not necessarily," John says. "There was no need to kidnap you if he already had you. He probably knew that someone was watching him and he set you up to get kidnapped so that he could find them. Well it worked. We captured the kidnappers. Shit! Now Mycroft's getting me to do his dirty work like he used to do to Sherlock. Bastard! Sherlock's not cold in his grave and Mycroft is already back to ..." John's voice trails off and a look of incredible sadness crosses his face.

Maddy crosses the room, and puts a hand on his arm. John's head and shoulders fall, and he seems to collapse into his chair. Maddy recognizes this feeling. She had done the same thing yesterday in that bathroom.

"Let's get you back to bed," she says pulling him up by his arm and leading him back to the bedroom.

Maddy pulls back the covers and sits John down on the bed. She pushes him down and covers him up with the blanket. He's surprisingly docile, lost in his own pain, unable to concentrate on the world around him. She sits on the edge of the bed and tucks him in, then she looks around the room. There's a periodic table on the wall, and something in a foreign language. There are books and a photograph of some children with dark hair. That's when she realizes.

"This is HIS room isn't it? Mr. Holmes slept here, didn't he?" John doesn't answer. He only pulls the blanket over his head. Maddy turns off the light then and leaves the room.

Back on the couch, Maddy pulls her own blanket around her. For once she's glad that she and Abud hadn't had a home. They hadn't lived together. and so Abud is only a memory to her now. She has some jewelry and some good times to remember him by. But John is surrounded by Sherlock all of the time. Everything in this house speaks of him. It's suffocating. All of these possessions. All of the things that he had touched. No wonder John has broken down. How can he get over Sherlock's death with all of these things here to remind him that Sherlock is gone. How selfish of Sherlock to leave him here with all of these things that can cause him pain.

But then again, when Sherlock had held out the phone with John's picture on it, there had been so much emotion in him. John wasn't the only one pained by their parting.

Then she thinks of what John said about the kidnapping? Mycroft had set her up. John thought that Mycroft had meant to involve him in his plots, but she understands it now.

Mycroft had said it himself. _"If you can not find him, perhaps he will seek to find you."_

He had given her back her phone, and then let her get kidnapped, He had probably expected that she would call Sherlock. That man! He really will do anything to get his brother back, even if it means letting her get killed.

But why would he stop with just one attempt? If Mycroft's plan is to put her into increasingly more dangerous situations until she breaks down and calls for Sherlock, then living here would not in any way be keeping John safe. She's endangering John by staying here. Her first instincts were right. She should leave.

Maddy gathers her things, takes an apple from the table, and then looks in on John. He's sleeping with Sherlock's pillow clasped in his arms. She pulls on her coat and takes out her phone. She could call Mycroft. Confront him directly about his trickery, but what good would that do? It would only tip her hand, tell him that she knows what a liar he is. She puts the phone into her pocket and heads for the door, but before she reaches it, a text message arrives.

 **[Meet me at the Axel cable warehouse on fifth at 4 am tonight. Come alone. SH]**

Sherlock Holmes has finally texted her back.


	18. Anarchy

Maddy can see her breath as she pushes open the door to the empty warehouse. When she was in the homeless network, warehouses had been her specialty Finding it was easy. The hardest thing had been the walk through the cold night air to get here. The warehouse seems deserted as one might expect at this time of night, but the lights are on in this area. They fade into darkness as she looks further back into the building, dark shadows among the neatly stacked crates that turn to black in the distance.

She walks into the center of the lit area, a space with tape markings on the floor, that has nonetheless been cleared of all boxes. There is a high ceiling crisscrossed with metal beams, and heavy chains hang down from the girders in the ceiling. Maddy has seen many a warehouse, but this one is particularly creepy. It is too quiet, and too dark. Standing alone in the light as she is, Maddy feels a bit like a cat in the middle of a parking lot looking up fearfully in case of hawks.

She turns at the the sound of measured footsteps, and watches a figure come out of the shadows. She frowns as she recognizes Mycroft Holmes approaching, cane in hand.

"You," she says. "Did you send the message to bring me here?"

"No, I did not send the message," he says.

"Then, how did you know that I would be here?"

Mycroft pulls out a cell phone identical to Maddy's. "I had your phone duplicated. I've come for the same reason that you have come. To see Sherlock." Mycroft pulls his pocket watch out of his pocket and looks down at it. "It is past time. He should be here by now. Where is he?"

"Not coming I'm afraid," a voice says from high up. "I'm surprised that you actually gave your security the slip. That makes this much more convenient." Maddy looks up to see a man standing on a large crate. She recognizes him as the man in charge of the kidnappers. He walks to the edge of the crate so that he is in the light. He's holding a rifle.

"Where's Sherlock?" Maddy asks walking toward him. Mycroft puts out a hand to hold her back.

"I haven't the foggiest," the man says. "That's not what this is about."

"You work for me don't you?" Mycroft says. "Kinney isn't it? You're from technology and cracking?"

"I'm honored that you remembered me," he says. "but then again, I recently did you a service, copying Irene Adler's phone and then Sherlock's for you."

" _You_ sent the message." Mycroft says with certainty.

"And you fell for it. The great Mycroft Holmes finally in my power."

"Hardly," Mycroft says haughtily. "This building is surrounded by my security."

The man laughs. "No it's not. You wouldn't want anyone to know that your brother is still alive. When this phone was sent to me, there were no instructions except to copy it, but I figured it out. Your brother is truly your greatest weakness. You won't have told anyone that you came to meet him. No, Mr. Holmes, except for the little woman here, you are quite alone."

Mycroft Holmes frowns. "So now that I am here, what is it that you want?"

"I want a great many things," the man says. "I want a world where the powerful do not oppress the weak. I want the multinational corporations ruined. I want to watch Buckingham palace burn, but I will settle with destroying you."

The man lifts his gun then and shoots Mycroft. Maddy screams, dropping to his side. She notices then that there is a dart in his chest instead of a bullet. She looks up into Mycroft's shocked face. He tries to talk to her, but instead he falls back. She grabs him lowering him carefully to the ground. Then she looks up at the man on the crate to find the muzzle of the rifle pointed at her. She feels a sharp pain in her shoulder, and sees the self-satisfied expression on the man's face before the whole world turns to black.

* * *

When Maddy wakes, she finds herself lying on a bare mattress and chained to a bed. Something that she has heard about people being chained to beds without enough sheets to hang themselves flashes into her mind, and she cries out in panic. Then a calm voice says, "Madeline, relax. It seems that we are alright for the moment."

Maddy turns her head and sees Mycroft Holmes chained to a chair. He's in a state of partial undress. His coat, shirt, shoes, socks, and waistcoat have been removed and he sits in only his undershirt and his trousers. He looks so exposed. Not the immaculately put together man that she is used to.

Maddy pulls on the chain attached to her right wrist. It is holding her hand above her head. She tugs and she tugs before realizing that one of the rungs of the chain is caught on a hook on the bedpost. So she quiets herself, carefully lifting her hand and unhooking it. The chain is actually much longer than she thought, and she is able to rise up off of the mattress. The other side of the chain is attached to the bottom right leg of the bed. She notices that the chain is long enough for her to reach an exposed toilet that sits up against the wall. It is almost, but not quite long enough to reach Mycroft's chair. If she stretches, her fingers can just brush his cheek. She walks back, tugging on the metal bed, but it's securely fastened to the floor.

The small cell that they are in has white cinderblock walls and a dirty white foam ceiling. There is one door and no windows.

"Where are we?" Maddy asks.

"We are being held by terrorists. Domestic terrorists to be exact," Mycroft says. "My guess is that we are still in the greater London area by the air quality and the weather, but it is too quiet to be very central. I heard a helicopter earlier, but it was faint, and I was unable to discern the manufacturer, although I did ascertain that it was probably commercial, so I believe that we are within 10 miles of a commercial airport. If only this room had a window. There is so much more that I could deduce from the vegetation, insect life and angle of light. Unfortunately, tied as I am to this chair, I have little to go on."

"Why aren't we dead?"

"How refreshingly direct you are Madeline. We are not dead, because we serve his needs better alive than dead."

"That was the man who kidnapped me before."

"I had surmised as much," Mycroft replies. "I had not realized that he was in my employ however. We must improve our employee screening process."

They both turn at the sound of the lock rattling. The door opens and the man enters, a gun visible in his hand.

"You come armed again," Mycroft says. "Unnecessary as we are unable to defend ourselves."

"Sit down woman! Or I'll make you fall down," the man says closing the door behind him as he pushes a wheeled cart over to the corner of the room far away from them. He pulls out a plastic cup and fills it with water. "This is for you," he says. "You must be thirsty."

"No, thank you," Mycroft says dignified even in his undershirt.

"Ah, you are rightly suspicious, but I have no need to drug the water. I could have drugged you while you slept much more easily." The man takes a sip from the cup before walking toward Mycroft. Then he pauses and hands the cup to Maddy instead. "You give him the water," he says.

Maddy takes the cup. She wonders if she should try something, but she's not a fighter. She sips some of the water, and then walks over to Mycroft reaching out with one hand until the cup reaches his mouth. Mycroft drinks.

"Good," the man says. "You're going to need that for what comes next."

The man walks forward and sticks Mycroft in the shoulder with a needle. Mycroft kicks out with his foot and tries to trip the man, but he steps back quickly avoiding the attack. "Ah, ah, ah! None of that," he says.

"What did you just give him?" Maddy asks.

"Sodium triopental," The man says.

"What is that?"

"Truth serum," Mycroft Holmes replies. "But what do you hope to gain? Why are you doing this?"

"What an unbecoming question, Mr. Holmes. You know why I am doing this."

"If you want to get Delf out of prison, this is no way to accomplish your goals."

"Oh, that story was just for my flunkies," the man said. "People like that need concrete objectives to live and die for."

"Who is Delf?" Maddy asks.

"The leader of the The New Way Anarchist group. He was captured a year ago along with most of their organization as they attempted to bomb King's Cross station."

"Why would anyone want to do that?" Maddy asks.

"Why would anyone want to live in this world of inequality?" The man says with emotion. "Those trains are just an outward sign of our oppression. Devices to take people to and from their positions of slavery. This country is full of slaves and they don't even know that they are in chains!"

Mycroft arches his brows as he stares at the man before him. "That man in prison isn't Delf," Mycroft says. "You are."

"Very good, very smart, just what I would expect of the great Mycroft Holmes, so clever, so important to the plans of the government. I was going to blackmail you," Delf said, "but this is so much better isn't it? I got the idea from Mrs Adler and her phone. She seduced all of those people. Got them to talk to her and tell her secrets. This is so much more direct is it not? You value directness. I heard you say as much to your woman."

"I'm not..." Maddy begins.

"I know who you are," Delf says, "but do you?" He turns on a voice recorder. "Now the drug will enter your system and you will talk. You will tell me all of your government's secrets, and with this information I will make it fall to the ground."

"You won't escape," Mycroft says. "We will hunt you down and find you before you get a chance to use your data, my people will destroy you."

"Well, if I don't get a chance to finish my plan, I'll just have to do plan B. You see, I've learned that many top officials think that Mycroft Holmes is indispensable to the proper running of the government. Therefore, my second best way to destroy the government is to kill you. Now, I must leave to create a false trail for your men, but just go on talking without me. Say whatever pops into your mind. I promise, when I come back I will hang on your every word."

"He's alone here," Maddy says. "If he had anyone else helping him, they would have come."

Mycroft frowns at her as if he would rather she had stayed silent.

"Yes it is true. You have an unfortunate habit of capturing my followers," Delf says, "But I am more than capable of creating havoc all on my own."

"What is your plan?" Mycroft asks.

Delf laughs, "I've already told you all that I am going to," he says. "I'm sure that you can deduce what will happen when your absence is noticed. And you can predict what will happen to the government when they discover that it is permanent. What were you doing before you left? Where will your absence cause the most damage? Think on that while I'm away. I'll be interested to hear what you have to say about it. Good bye," he says as he walks through the door, shutting and locking it behind him.

Maddy screams, "Let us out!" and "Help!" but no one seems to hear her.

"There is no point. We are most certainly housed too far away for anyone else to hear us."

"Help!"

"Please be quiet now Madeline," Mycroft asks her. "I am trying to concentrate. To somehow counteract this drug."

"What, do you have some kind of antiserum? a tablet hidden in your cheek?"

"How fanciful," Mycroft says. "I was just hoping to steady myself. Perhaps to bite my tongue so that I am not understandable, or to throw myself back with enough force to knock myself out."

"Why are you talking about hurting yourself?" Maddy asks sitting back down on the bed.

"Because I cannot be allowed to talk. The secrets that we gleaned from Ms. Adler are as nothing to the secrets that I house in my head. Any one of them could shake the stability of this nation. I am loathe to praise the enemy, but this plan is ingenious. By breaking me, he will gain knowledge that can greatly harm this nation. Perhaps a suicide pill would have been an appropriate precaution."

"Don't be ridiculous. What does this drug do anyway? As I understand it, all you have to do is be quiet and not talk."

"You don't understand, Madeline. The drug tends to make subjects loquacious and cooperative with interrogators. It will make me talk. But you can help me Maddy. I need you to help me for the safety of this nation."

"I don't care about the nation," Maddy says. "But I can help you. What do you need?"

"You have to talk to me. Talk to me about anything but the government. Lead me away from subjects that will be harmful."

Mycroft's head starts to fall forward. "Oh my," he says, "it's starting. I dearly hope that he applied the correct dosage."

"Why?"

"Because this drug is also used to kill by lethal injection."

Maddy reaches over to Mycroft. When she stretches, she can just put one hand on his chest. "If I could get you closer, I might be able to loosen your bonds," she says. She pulls on the seat of the chair, but goes nowhere, so she lays down on the ground. Tugging at the leg of Mycroft's chair, she's able to get a tiny bit of movement. By pulling one leg after the other, she moves him closer to the bed in little steps. The work is slow. "Maybe you can help me by leaning," she says, but Mycroft seems to be concentrating on something. He sits very still with his eyes squeezed shut.

She hooks her foot around one leg of the bed and is able to pull the chair a couple of inches. When she looks up, she notices that Mycroft is starting to doze off. "I fear that he may have used a bit too much," Mycroft says. "I hope that it doesn't cause permanent brain damage, however, an overdose of sodium triopental can induce a coma. That could be advantageous. Perhaps, it would be for the best."

"You want to be in a coma?" Maddy asks, her fingers grasping the leg of the chair tightly as she pulls it closer.

"If I am in a coma, I can say nothing. That would be best for the government."

"And you always do what is best for the government?"

"I try."

"And why is that?"

"Because that is what I have chosen to..."

"Chosen to ...what?"

"Madeline, please stop asking me questions."

"Finish the sentence! That is what you have chosen to... what?"

"To amuse myself with. To keep myself occupied," Mycroft says.

"You work for the government because it is amusing?"

"Yes, I mean, no. Madeline, stop asking me questions. You are supposed to be on my side."

"Who told you that I was on your side? You're a rich man, a powerful man. Maybe that Delf guy was right? Maybe it's better if you all go down."

Mycroft becomes marginally more alert and a sneer forms on his face. "Oh yes, I forgot. In your simplistic worldview, poor means good and rich means bad as if they were matters of choice and not positions that we are born to. I remember how at our first meeting you said that I had no compassion. That it had been choked out of me by my...what were your exact words? My 'privilege and my public school education'. Well, you couldn't be more wrong. There is a reason that we are called 'public servants'. It is because we try to do good for everyone. We try to make the world better. Look at your lot. Here you are at the bottom of society, and yet there are still worse things out there. Despite what Mr. Delf says, you have not found yourself captured and enslaved? Not in the way that you believed yourself to be when you woke so dramatically moments ago. You feared that you had been sold into slavery. I have personally encouraged legislation that has lead to the breaking down and deportation of the leaders of twelve illegal slavery rings. We have kept the British government strong and at peace. Your life would be much harsher if we were in a war, believe me."

"But we are at war! You just try to hide it."

"I do no such thing! My goal is the continued prosperity and protection of the Commonwealth. I set my mind to accomplish this goal, and I am very good at it. I could tell you stories… but this is what you were to help me avoid. Please, talk about something else, anything else."

"Did you know that I would get kidnapped?"

Mycroft stares at Maddy. "This isn't what I was thinking about when I asked you to change the subject."

"Well, did you?"

"I knew that it was a possibility."

"And you let me go into danger?"

"Yes," Mycroft says. "Why is this a problem for you? You worked as an operative for my brother. I was only asking you to do what you did for him."

"Your brother never sent us into harmful situations if he could avoid it. He protected us. He disbanded the network when it seemed that we might be targeted or discovered. Your brother is better than you. You don't value human life."

"And Sherlock does? Ha! Sherlock used you as well."

"He told us what he wanted. He was honest with us."

"You are talking to me of honesty? You know where my brother is and you refuse to tell me. You consciously keep it from me. I knew that there was a threat against my life, and I felt that a little peril might attract my brother if he was watching you. Kill two birds with one stone so to speak. I didn't plan for you to be harmed."

"But if I was killed, that wouldn't be much of a loss."

"I never said that."

"But you thought it. The truth is that other people just don't matter to you, do they Mycroft Holmes?"

"There are always casualties in war. We are at war, Maddy, with forces that you see everyday: greed, poverty, hate. I fight those things."

"You fight things, and people don't matter."

"Of course people matter!" he cries.

"Oh?" Maddy says. "You mean that their actions have an effect on your work. They matter as pieces in some game, not as individuals. No one is real to you. Everyone but you is simply a manikin or a robot moving around like the figures in an old fashioned German clock. They aren't the same as you."

"No, you aren't the same as me," he cries. "Of course you aren't! You don't have all this data, data, data cluttering up your brain. You don't see ahead what's going to happen in a minute, in an hour, in fifty years. I do. Do you know what a burden that is? I would have gone mad ages ago if I hadn't found this solution?

"My mind races even in a simple conversation. People talk so slow. I solve equations in my brain between words to make my speech slow enough for others to understand me. I have an algorithm that applies to each type of conversation. A set of rules to get the spacing right. I tried to teach it to Sherlock, but he doesn't have the patience. He natters on too fast and alienates people. But other than the intricacies of social situations, I try NOT to study individual people, their habits and foibles, like Sherlock does. I study entire populations.

"What will be the effect on the population if we enact gay marriage legislation, for example? How will it effect the incidence of hate crime, homicide, suicide, tourism, national prestige? I look at how other countries seek to get advantage through trade. How small increases in tariffs will effect the cost of what the common British citizen buys for breakfast for the next fifteen years. I watch how decreases in infant mortality in Namibia affect immigration and cybercrime rates in the commonwealth. I pack it all into my brain and consider it, and yet there are always more things to consider.

"It is a game. To try to get the highest point value so to speak. The value that gives the greatest safety, security, quality of life, for all the British people. Is that not an honorable enough goal for you? Is that not something worth dedicating a life to? Or would you rather stone me and burn down my house because I was born rich? If I were a drunk who wanders the street begging for money and performing occasional acts of petty theft to get by, would that be a better life for me?

"It was the harsh reality of poverty that drove James Moriarty mad. Under different circumstances he could have done great good, but what happened to him? He had to use his wits to survive in a harsh world and he turned to crime. Ultimately he killed himself. A bullet to the brain. What a waste. And my brother, he is constantly in danger of a similar fate. I had thought ... I had thought that I had lost him. That this time, I failed to get there in time, but you told me of a much happier fate."

"You mean, that he's alive."

"Not only that," Mycroft says. "I was happy because he left you behind to watch John. It told me why he faked his death. It told me why he won't kill himself now. Because he has people that he cares for. To paraphrase E.M. Forster, He has finally found that the answer to the question of life is Yes! It means that Sherlock has finally begun to understand love."

"And do you understand love, Mycroft Holmes?" Maddy asks. She has moved the chair a few feet closer so that she can touch him now. She reaches an arm around his waist to touch his hands. They are bound by handcuffs, not rope.

"Oh God!" Mycroft says his head bobbing on his chest. "I can't, I can't hold back. Please! just find something and stuff it into my mouth. Just stop my mouth from talking before I say something. Please, Madeline do something, now."

Maddy looks at the mattress. It has no sheet. They have no socks, no ties, and their chains make any other clothes difficult to remove. She doesn't think that she can get it off in time. Mycroft's head rolls from side to side. He starts to mumble. She has to stop up his mouth somehow. She stares at his face. His eyelids are starting to flicker. She sits on his lap and lifts his chin, blocking his mouth with her own tongue as she holds him in a deep kiss.


	19. Rescue

A couple of hours later, Maddy hears footsteps, she rising to her feet. After a shudder and a loud thump, the door is removed by its hinges to swing open the wrong way, lock intact. She puts a hand on his shoulder, to hold him up. It is a sign of his stupor that Mycroft barely rolls his head as men in black armor with helmets and guns stream in. One pulls out a walky-talky and calls into it. "We've found him. I repeat, Golden has been found."

The guards continue to look around, at the cart, the bed, the toilet. Then Maddy hears the sharp sound of a pair of high-heels on polished concrete, and the dark haired woman enters the room. She rushes to Mycroft's side, looks at him, and then says, "A doctor! Get a doctor immediately!"

Maddy is surprised. She's never seen the woman flustered before.

A man with a red cross on his arm band rushes in, and Maddy steps back giving the military doctor access to Mycroft.

"What did they give him?" The doctor asks her.

"Sodium...uh...truth serum," Maddy says.

The doctor reaches into his bag, and pulls out a stethoscope to listen to Mycroft's heart. He checks his eyes, opening the lids wider with his fingers before shining a light in them.

"Could you please refrain from doing that," Mycroft says causing his dark-haired assistant to smile in relief.

"Sir," she says putting more true emotion into that one syllable than she has shown in entire conversations with Maddy. "Are you all right?" she asks.

He nods falling forward a bit as the cuffs are cut off of his wrists. His hands swing free, and the doctor examines the marks on his wrists before taking his pulse. A moment later someone cuts off the band securing her to the chain.

"We need to get him to a secure location," the captain says. "He said something about a bomb."

"The ceiling," Mycroft whispers, his voice gravely.

The men share a glance before one of them climbs on the bed and slowly lifts one of the foam ceiling panels with the tip of his gun. He shines a light and exclaims, "Jesus! This entire room is rigged to explode."

"Retreat. Now!" The captain says before spitting code into his radio.

The doctor lifts Mycroft to his feet, half dragging him toward the door.

"The tape!" Mycroft says pointing at the recording device on the cart. The dark haired woman grabs it, and drops it in a black briefcase.

They march down the hallway in procession. Two soldiers ahead, the captain, the assistant, the doctor carrying Mycroft, Maddy, and two soldiers taking up the rear.

They reach open air and a lawn of green grass. The daylight blinds Maddy. She raises her hands in front of her face to find herself shaded a moment later by the shadow of a helicopter landing. The breeze blows errant hairs across the assistant's face.

The door opens, and the captain motions them forward. The assistant goes forward and climbs into the copter. Maddy steps forward, but the captain lays a hand on her shoulder pointing to a black van. Maddy starts toward the van only to feel a hand grab her wrist.

"NO!" Mycroft says "With me!" And he pulls her into the with him.

Mycroft is fastened into a seat, and so is Maddy. The assistant stands next to the soldiers, wrapping her hand securely around a strap as the helicopter takes off.

They circle the flat-roofed building before turning away. It looks like an ant's nest with dozens of black-clad men running out of it. The radio sputters, and then there is an explosion. The helicopter swerves as a cloud of smoke rises beside it.

They look down to see that half of the building is gone. Black clad bodies lie flat in rays from the blast. Maddy lets out a breath when she sees the men climb to their feet. The helicopter turns away, and the building falls behind. Even so, she can tell that the explosion was centered on the room that they had been held in. If it had taken another half-hour to find them, they would have died.

When the helicopter is more stable, the doctor hooks Mycroft up to an I.V. drip. Maddy slumps down in her seat exhausted waking as they land a few minutes later to find that she has been covered with a blanket.

Mycroft is loaded into an ambulance, and Maddy quickly climbs in taking a seat.

The assistant stands beside Mycroft, looking down at her phone as she says, "We are setting up a secure hospital wing..."

"No," Mycroft commands. "Take me home."

"But sir, your injuries!"

"...are minor. Take me home. Tonight I will sleep in my own bed."

"Yes sir." She says before walking around to climb into the passenger seat. The ambulance doors closem and Maddy fastens the small seat belt as it takes off. Mycroft is strapped in the bed, his IV swinging from side to side as they drive through the city streets, lights flashing.

Eventually, the doors open and Mycroft is taken out. She climbs out behind them following as he is wheeled into a large house. She barely has time to notice the arches, columns, and life-sized statues as Mycroft is taken down a hallway and to a white panel door. The door closes, and she is led into the neighboring room. Then a nurse comes in and asks her to sit while they look into her eyes and take her temperature. She takes her blood pressure. "Elevated," she says. Before rising to her feet and leaving the room.

She sits on the bed watching the chaos through the open door as doctors are summoned, and men in suits pass by. She waits for someone to come and take a statement from her for the police, but no one does. The assistant rushes past, heels clicking. And then the her door is closed.

The room she is in has white wainscoting and wallpaper of the palest peach. The bed has a white wooden headboard of classic design. There is a vanity packed with bottles, and a couch. The bathroom door is open.

Maddy peeks out of the door. The rest of the house looks like a museum. The flurry of people has slowed down to a trickle now, and in the absence of the rushing feet, she can feel the quiet of this place. They must still be deep in the city, but it sounds still, no cars, no planes, no birds. She walks back inside, and closes the door.

This place is no hotel. Obviously it was once lived in. Abandoned perfumes and toiletries sit on the shelves, and the shower has a custom extra large head with adjustable settings.

It appears to have been a woman's room at one time, but the toiletries have obviously not been used in years. It has been kept clean, but the difficulty she has in opening the shampoo bottle, and the brown ring crusted around the cap, makes her decide that washing her hair with the bar soap is the best option.

She tosses her clothes onto the bedroom floor, and hangs a fluffy towel on the rack before taking a quick shower. She dries off quickly putting on a night gown that she finds on her bed. Someone has tidied the room while she was in the shower, and the dirty clothes are gone.

The gown is not hospital issue. It is knee length and peach colored, like the room. She decides to risk putting on some perfume assuming that it takes longer to go bad.

There is a knock on the door, and a woman in a maid's uniform enters, and puts a tray on the table next to her before leaving. The tray contains water, orange juice and bread rolls. Maddy descends upon it, finishing it quickly. Then she washes her hands and face before going to the door. She enters to hall to find it empty of guards, doctors, or maids, so she walks to the next and knocks.

"Come in," a familiar voice barks. She enters.

Mycroft's bedroom is large. It is all browns and reds with a curtained canopy bed against one wall, Its four large wooden posts seeming as solid and immovable as if they had grown there. Leather chairs sit near the window, and a narrow armoire stands near the door to a walk in closet. A mirrored dressing table across from the bed contains his brush and a collection of small jewelry. On a desk on the far wall sits a glass box containing a model ship in a bottle. _"So people really do that,"_ Maddy thinks, gazing at it and the other small knicknacks that he keeps here.

Eventually Maddy's gaze is drawn to the bed where Mycroft Holmes lies, propped up on pillows, a nurse in a blue uniform seated in a chair at his side.

"Could you please give us a moment, Penelope?" he says, and the woman rises leaving the room and closing the door carefully behind her.

Maddy walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. "Are you alright?" Maddy asks him.

"I'm fine," he says. The bags under his eyes contradict him, but the slight smile on his lips tells her that it's only a matter of time before he is his old pompous self again.

"The building blew up," she says.

"A parting gift from Delf. He meant to ensure my death even if he did not return."

"Has he been captured?"

"No. He is dead. He killed himself when he found that he was cornered. He took four good officers with him."

"That's terrible," Maddy says.

"If you are wondering, we are at my house."

"Funny thing, I deduced that. The monogrammed handkerchiefs on the dresser are a dead give away."

"You will stay here for a while. There may be others waiting for an opportunity to continue what Delf started."

"That's fine with me. I've been kidnapped enough to last a lifetime. I should call John though, tell him where I am.""

"You can't use your mobile phone again," Mycroft says. "It's been compromised. You'll have to find another way to contact John and Sherlock."

"Oh I don't have to... wait." Maddy says looking at him sidelong, "You are on your sickbed and you are still pumping me for information about your brother?" Mycroft smiles and Maddy smiles back. "Now, tell me where I can find a phone."

Mycroft gestures to the other end of the room. She finds one on a small table beside the window. She turns the old-fashioned rotary dial and phones John. After calling, she comes back over and sits in the chair beside Mycroft.

"What did he say?"

"I told him that I was going to stay over at Mycroft's for a few days and he started to laugh really loudly. I think he fell out of his chair."

"He finds this amusing?"

"Oh, it's just something silly that we were talking about earlier." Mycroft's raises an eyebrow questioningly, but she shakes her head. No way she's replaying that conversation for him.

Mycroft moves the sheets out of the way then and faces her lowering his feet down to the floor as he sits on the side of the bed. "There is an issue that must be resolved, something that should be addressed as soon as possible." Mycroft says, his formal tone strangely at odds with his appearance as he is wearing a simple knee length striped gown. She stares at his bare calves, pale white skin and tiny reddish-brown hairs, and then up at his serious face.

"What?" Maddy asks.

"I never said thank you, Miss St. Martin, for your service to the British government," Mycroft says solemnly. "There will be a commendation."

Maddy sits back in her chair surprised. "A commendation? For kissing you?" She laughs. "No, I don't need that. What would it even read? I'm sorry. I know you're trying to thank me for my help, but there's no need to be so serious about it. It just popped into my head. And you must agree that it kept you distracted. And I didn't mind kissing you. It's just something I would do."

"Would you?" Mycroft asks.

"Of course, given the situation that we were in, it was logical, and I think that lots of people might, given the same circumstances..."

"Madeline," Mycroft says, his eyes locking with hers. "I'm asking. Would you?"

A smile touches Maddy's lips and she blushes.

"Okay."

She very carefully climbs up on his lap, places her arms around his neck, and kisses Mycroft Holmes. He, cautiously, lowers his hands onto her back, and she realizes that he had not done so before because his hands had been bound.

She raises her head and smiles before kissing him again. Mycroft's hand drifts up into her hair, and then he falls back on the bed pulling her on top of him. He wraps her in his arms, and it feels so nice to be held again.

It only takes one shocked nurse walking in on them, before the entire household staff knows to knock before entering Mycroft's room. It is a bit unprecedented, because no one, not even the oldest of the household staff, can remember Mr. Mycroft bringing anyone home.


	20. The next morning

Maddy lay back on Mycroft's large bed looking up at the reddish brown canopy. The mattress is firmer than she would have expected. She likes it. She tugs at the curtains attached to the wooden posts. "Do these curtains close?" she asks, "It's a bit cold in this room."

"There is a thermostat," Mycroft calls from the bathroom. She sits up and leans over to glance at him shaving. Then she scoots over to the edge of the bed and rises to her feet, wrapping the sheet around herself as she walks to the bathroom door to get a better look at him.

He's wearing a white shirt with the first button undone, dark trousers, dark socks, and black leather shoes. Over these clothes he is wearing a navy blue robe. He stands at the sink examining his face as he lathers it with a large round brush.

Maddy watches him, a small smile on her face. She thinks that she should talk to him, but she doesn't know what to say. There are too many thoughts in her head, and she doesn't know what to do with them all, so she watches his morning ritual. It's fascinating to her, something completely outside of her experience. She can't turn her eyes away.

He rinses his brush and shaves with a metal handled razor. Then he washes his face carefully before patting it dry with a towel. He tests the shave with his fingertips and then washes his hands before starting on his hair.

He runs some gel through his hair with his fingers. Then he picks up a comb and spends a few minutes perfecting the swoop of his bang to take attention away from his receding hairline. Maddy finds herself smirking at his primping. He turns to face her.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"No," she says shaking her head. "Just looking."

He washes his hands again, brushing them with a small curved brush to clean beneath his fingernails.

"You're free to wear my bathrobe until something more appropriate can be found for you," he says. "I've already rung up the chauffeur to go by the hotel and bring the wardrobe that we picked for you before, but you can buy new clothes if you prefer."

Mycroft buttons the top button of his shirt, and raises his collar. He hangs his robe on the back of the door before leaving the bathroom to shuffle through the drawers of his wooden armoire. Ties and handkerchiefs are neatly arranged by color and design. He pulls out a red tie with small diamonds on it and hangs it around his neck, then he walks to the dressing table to choose a tie pin and matching cufflinks.

Maddy sits back down on the bed watching as he enters the closet to choose his suit. He comes out a few moments later with a waistcoat and a jacket. He tosses the jacket over the back of a chair, then he puts on his waistcoat. He puts in his cufflinks, then he turns to the mirror and ties his tie, securing it with a tie pin. She has never seen anyone put on so many clothes before.

Maddy rises to her feet, walks up behind Mycroft, and wraps her arms around his waist. She watches in the mirror as the slight downturn of his lip turns up. Mycroft turns in her arms then and places his hands gently on her back. He looks down into her face, and she looks deep into his blue eyes.

"You look thoughtful. What is the expression? A penny for your thoughts."

Maddy is thinking of last night, and how unexpected it was. She would never have chosen a man such as Mycroft Holmes as a partner, nor would he have chosen her, but in that moment it had seemed as natural as putting two pieces of bread together to make a sandwich. Even now, in the morning, it seems right to hold this man who days ago would have been loathe even to touch her.

She places her head against his chest and listens to his heartbeat. It is steady and strong. The drug has done no lasting damage, which is good. So Mycroft has decided to go to work rather than take a sick day. Maddy is almost afraid to let him go, because she knows that once he leaves the room, she will be alone to deal with the consequences of her actions, whatever they might be.

Mycroft leans his chin forward to rest on her head for a moment. Then he lifts her chin, looking at her face again before gently kissing her lips. It's sweet and calming, like hugs from mother, or pink roses in the spring. This is the most distressing thing of all to her, that although all outside indicators say that they have nothing in common, when they are together, everything seems to be right.

Mycroft Holmes may be harsh and dangerous in the boardroom, but in the bedroom he's a teddy bear: cute and cuddly and warm and quiet. Maddy didn't know that she wanted such things. The streets of London are loud and brash and busy. Here it is safe and quiet and cozy. And Mycroft's arms feel more comfortable than any bed or chair.

She doesn't want to say that she's afraid that the moment he opens that door the world will rush in, and all of the reasons why they can't be together will cover them like the evils from Pandora's box. In this moment there's only him and her: no memories, no future, no past. They are at peace, and peace is never permanent. It is a lull between waves, the silence between words.

"You didn't answer me," he says. "What are you thinking?"

"Do you have a penny?"

"No, I don't usually carry cash."

"Then I don't have to tell you," Maddy says closing her eyes and snuggling closer.

"You don't want me to go," Mycroft says smiling down on her.

"Did you deduce that using your incredible mental powers?"

"No," he says. "I deduced that from the fact that your fingernails are digging into my back."

Maddy pulls away from him. "Sorry," she says. "Will I still get that commendation?"

Mycroft laughs. "Absolutely! For service above and beyond the call of duty." Then his face turns serious and he frowns. "Madeline, you didn't have to… do what you did. That is, I didn't mean to suggest that it was expected of you. I mean... I know that I'm not... what someone like you would call... attractive."

"Wait a second. You're not trying to say that you aren't good enough for me, are you? Because that's just ludicrous. You're magnificent!"

Mycroft tries to remain serious, but he can't hide his smile. He turns back toward the mirror and tugs on his tie.

"I must put in an appearance today. There are issues that need my immediate attention. How the leader of an anarchist group is on my payroll for one, but I can use my recent illness as an excuse to come home early. Will you be here?"

He makes it a question, glancing at her in the mirror as he puts on his coat. Maddy finds it endearing that he is asking her if she will stay when just yesterday he would have ordered it.

"Yes," she says. "I'll be waiting here for you."

Maddy glaces at herself in the mirror. Looking from the outside, she doesn't recognize herself. Who is this docile, quiet woman floating around Mycroft like a diaphanous cloud? She certainly feels as hazy as one. It's as if she had been the one drugged. He asked her for a kiss, and she'd given him more. She gave him her faith, and he gave her his trust. Normally she would be looking for the trick in his words, but what they had exchanged was beyond words.

He walks back to the armoire, pulling out a red pocket square that he places in his coat pocket. He turns back toward her then, and she reaches out to straighten his tie, but somehow she messes it up, and he has to re-pin it.

He turns toward the door, and she rushes after him dropping the sheet. He turns back and looks her up and down before enfolding her in his arms and kissing her again. They look into each other's eyes with a fierce intensity, as if they both know that the fates are against them. He holds her against his chest and kisses the top of her head before turning back toward the door.

"Your watch!" she cries picking it up from the vanity and walking to the door to where Mycroft waits, one hand on the handle. She holds out the watch. He turns back toward her and takes it in his hand attaching the chain to his waistcoat. He opens it, looking at its face and then hers.

In that moment, she can read his thoughts as if they are written on his forehead. He's thinking that it's only a matter of time before this romance is a thing of the past. She's thinking it too. He turns away then and opens the door. He looks back at her, and then he leaves.


	21. Kept Woman

Maddy sits down on the bed and falls back naked onto the sheets. She still misses Abud. She'd loved him, but it's stupid to think of love as something sold in fixed amounts. It doesn't mean that she can't feel something completely new for Mycroft. This feeling is completely unexpected, like finding an iris blooming in the snow. She closes her eyes and remembers the feel of his hand on her cheek. Nothing in her life had ever felt as smooth as his hands upon her skin.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. Maddy reaches down and wraps the sheet around her. "Come in," she says hesitantly.

A maid in a black and white uniform, the kind that she had only seen in movies and costume shops, comes in carrying a tray. "Good morning, Miss," she says. She has a grin a mile wide plastered on her face. "I brought you some breakfast."

"What's your name?"

"Ann," she says, "and you are Miss Madeline?"

"Call me Maddy."

"Yes, Miss Maddy. When you need anything, just dial 1 and the butler will answer. We just received a call that your clothes are on their way. If you have questions about anything at all, you can call for me or Marie. She's the upstairs maid."

"I do have one question," Maddy says. "Does this happen often, that Mycroft… Mr. Holmes, brings someone to stay over, a woman I mean?"

"Oh no, Miss," Ann says shaking her head. "In fact, I've never seen him with a woman at all, other than that assistant of his, and she doesn't stay over. To tell the truth, Miss, we staff are just tickled to death to see Mr. Mycroft show interest in anyone. We were beginning to wonder if... I mean, sometimes he hardly acts like he's human at all." Ann places the tray on the bedside table and leaves. She winks as she closes the door. Breakfast consists of sausages, eggs, and fruit with a side of grape juice. She picks up a sausage and eats it with her fingers. She takes a sip of juice, then she goes to take a shower.

Maddy scrubs her body with the soap trying to remove the layers of grime that she imagines coating her skin from months of living on the street. She rubs at the scar that she got when she climbed in a skip and the lid had closed on her leg. She rubs at the mark on her arm from the tranquilizer gun. The red skin from the chain that had bound her to the bed. The mark on her foot where she had stepped on a nail and it had started to get infected before she had begged some antibiotic and bandages off of a woman with a small child.

Maddy squats down in the shower and wraps her arms around her legs as water and doubt wash over her. Why is she here? Where is she going? What should she do with her life? Who does she think she is anyway? None of these questions have answers so she turns off the water and climbs out of the shower. She wraps a towel around herself and walks back into the bedroom.

While she had been bathing, someone had changed the sheets and made the bed. She blushes imagining what they must have seen on the bed sheets. There are clothes laid out for her: A red dress with polka-dots, red flats, stockings, and underwear. They look to be in her size. She wonders for a moment who is choosing her clothes, dressing her up like a fashion doll.

She puts on the clothes, and then sits at Mycroft's dressing table. Somehow brushing her hair with his brush makes her still feel connected to him. She pulls her hair back and piles it on her head letting it fall back down when she realized that she has nothing to bind it with. She quickly discards the idea of using one of his ties to tie up her hair, then she pushes it behind her ears before rising to her feet, and going to the door. She steels herself to go out and take a look at Mycroft's museum-like home. She turns the doorknob and walks out into the hall.

Maddy walks out of the room and down the hall. A maid, it must be Marie, sees her and runs off. She walks through the white walled halls passing marble-topped tables until she nears the entryway. She stops in front of a suit of armor. Is this an actual suit of armor? Did the Holmes family descend from some ancient line of knights, or is this just the newest thing in home decoration? Maybe it has some other function. It stores umbrellas, perhaps. She's think of lifting the face mask to look inside, when a tall blond woman in a navy colored dress comes toward her and makes a small bow of her head.

"Good Morning, Miss St. Martin. My name is Mrs. Winslow and I am the head housekeeper. Mr. Holmes said that you would be staying for a few days, so I would be happy to show you around the place, if you'd like."

Maddy looks up at Mrs. Winslow realizing that Mycroft has servants in his employ. The woman said the word 'Mister' to refer to Mycroft, but she hears 'Master' in her tone of voice. Her American egalitarianism rankles at this, so she holds out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Maddy," she says, and the woman shakes her hand. " I would like a tour, because I'm afraid I'd get lost going to the bathroom in a place this big, but I'm not the Queen, and I don't expect to be treated like one. My history books said that Feudalism died a long time ago, and even if I have fallen through a hole in time to some place where they think it hasn't, I don't want to be putting on airs now so that when you see me later in some alley you'll want to kick me for being such an ass to you."

"Pardon?" Mrs Winslow says confused.

"Um...I mean, thank you, that would be nice," Maddy says. Mrs Winslow smiles and begins her tour.

Mycroft's house is insanely big with its entry way and its formal dining hall and its study, library, and family room which is much more formal than anything else that she has ever heard called by that name. Maddy and Mycroft are sleeping in the family wing, and there is an entire second floor full of guest rooms.

Despite all of this space, Mycroft lives here alone, although she's told that other family lived here at one time. His father and mother now live, "in the country house." When Maddy asks whether Sherlock ever stayed here, the woman flinches. Yes, he's stayed here in the past, but his habits were disruptive to the proper maintenance of the estate, and so when he stays over now, he is banished to the basement.

Maddy asks to see the basement, and Mrs Winslow frowns. "I'm sorry, but those rooms are not maintained in the same manner as the rest of the house due to the danger of some of the items that the young Mr. Holmes left behind." Better and better, Maddy thinks.

The basement contains the air systems and the plumbing, a room for the security staff (she waves, they wave back), some storage areas, a back door, a bomb shelter, and the shop which is where Sherlock spent his time. She looks at at the stained grey table, the sink, and the wall of chemicals and immediately likes the place. In all of the building, it's the only place that looks lived in.

Maddy asks, "Are there are any rules that I should know about?"

Mrs Winslow nods. "Remember to dial 1 to reach me or Mr. Tennison, the butler. The staff is present only in the daytime except for Tennison who lives in an adjoining flat and will come day or night, if needed. An alarm goes off when any outside door or window is opened, and you should dial 5 to tell security if you opened it. Also, Mr. Mycroft has instructed that should you need him, you should text his number, and he will call you back on the house phone in your study."

"But I can't text. I don't have a phone anymore," Maddy says before the rest of the sentence dawns on her. "Did you say _my_ study?"

Mrs. Winslow grins and walks Maddy back to the family wing. Just before she enters, she turns and opens a plain white door. The room is small compared to the other rooms. The walls are a pale robin's egg blue. The ceiling is painted with clouds and flying birds. There is a fireplace, two recliners, a plain brown couch, and a desk with a phone. The blue and white pattern on the rug is more modern than designs found in the rest of the house, and Maddy visibly relaxes.

"This is the children's room, but Mr. Mycroft has directed that it should be set aside for your personal use."

"I suppose because he thinks I'm a child," Maddy says smiling at Mrs. Winslow who says nothing.

"I shall leave you now, if you don't mind," she says. "Ring if you need anything." Mrs Winslow leaves then closing the door quietly behind her.

Maddy sits in one of the recliners by the darkened fireplace and wonders what it would be like to grow up in such a place. She can't imagine it. Everything seems surreal. Not just this place, but her life on the street as well. It's as if the dream of her mother has reset her expectations for life.

She was born ordinary, average, normal. She had grandparents and friends, attended sporting events, had taken music lessons. Then her father had died, and they had moved to Mom's hometown where she had met and married That Man and he had abused her verbally and physically. That was when she had stopped thinking of herself as normal. That was when Maddy had first started to question her worth. All through middle school and high school, he had made her feel like she was nothing, but she had resisted him. She knew that she could do better, until she was forced to live on the streets. Then she understood that it was true what he had said about her. She was worth nothing.

But Sherlock had given her a phone and a job, and she had felt like she was someone again. What is she now, without her job or her independence, living in a mansion? She has become a kept woman. Her fate tied to Mycroft's like the worst fifties housewife. Well, at least she doesn't have to clean. But no, her mother had told her not to be quick to take names to herself. She had said, _"Don't let other people define you Maddy. Don't let other people limit you. Follow your heart, and it will lead you true."_

The phone rings. Maddy stares at it for a second, and then realizes that it's probably Mrs. Winslow telling her when to expect lunch. She walks over and picks it up.

"Madeline." It's Mycroft's voice on the line.

"Mycroft? Hello."

"You are there, wonderful."

"Of course I'm here, where else would I be?"

"Good. I just wasn't certain that you would still be there."

"I told you that I would be waiting."

"Yes, thank you, I should be home for tea."

"I guess I'll see you then," Maddy says.

"Fine ... goodbye, Madeline."

"Goodbye, Mycroft."

Maddy turns around and sees her reflection in a mirror. She's smiling. It surprises her. Then her stomach growls. Maddy suddenly remembers that she's forgotten to eat the breakfast that Ann had brought her. She goes back to Mycroft's room, but the plate of food was gone, so she backtracks to the door that Mrs Winslow had called the kitchens. She goes inside.


	22. Lemon Pie

The kitchen is warm and smells good. There are two women standing beside a large wooden table. The younger one turns to her as she comes in.

"Hello? Oh you must be Miss Madeline. Is there something you need?"

"Hello," Maddy says. "I was a little hungry."

"Well, you don't have to come in here. We can send food out to you."

"It's no problem. I just was looking for a snack, nothing fancy. I got distracted and didn't eat my breakfast."

"Well, we did wonder," The older woman says. "When your plate came back barely touched, I thought perhaps you didn't like it."

"Oh, no. I was looking forward to it. I was just a bit too slow. What are you cooking now?"

"Lunch is beef stew."

"Does Mycroft come home for lunch?"

"Oh, no. Almost never. This is for the staff," The older woman says. "By the way, I'm Mrs Jones, the chef and this is Katy."

"Hello," Katy said with a wave.

"Very nice to meet you Mrs Jones, Katy. Please call me Maddy. How many staff work here?"

"Well, it varies. You've met most of them. There's me and Katy of course, then Ann and Marie. Mrs Winslow, Mr Tennison, but he hardly ever eats here. He eats at home with his wife. We also send lunch up to security. There are always three or four men up there."

"So many?"

"Well, It's Mr. Mycroft's work. He likes to have them around. And they do other things as well. It's all very hush, hush, but there are always at least two men on site at all times. Sometimes as much as five."

"Don't forget the drivers," Kate said. "He has one permanent chauffeur and two who come from the office pool. They often stay for lunch. So that's about a dozen or so people every day, not counting Mr. Mycroft."

"That seems a lot for what must be an empty house most of the time. Does he have people over much?"

"You mean, does he entertain? Not Mr Mycroft. Once or twice, his assistant has stayed, but usually not. Mr Mycroft almost always comes home late, if he comes home at all. Now he's on another low calorie diet. We're making him a fava bean salad for dinner tonight."

"Rabbit Food!" Kate says. "How can anyone survive eating food that they hate?"

Mrs Jones wipes her hands on the apron, "But let me show you to the dining room, Miss Maddy. We can bring you out a snack. Whatever you want."

"Have you ever made lemon custard?"

"Lemon custard?"

"Yes, lemon custard. My Mamman Mildred taught me how to make it. Do you have some eggs, sugar, and lemon. I can show you. I bet you that once we make it, it will become Mycroft's new favorite dish!"

"But custard won't fit his dietary requirements. Besides, aren't you hungry, Miss?"

"Forget the rabbit food," Maddy says. "If you cook him that diet stuff, he'll just find a way to cheat by eating out. Give me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to tide me over, and I can teach you how to make the best lemon custard that you've ever tasted."

Maddy spends the morning in the kitchen. The custard somehow gets converted into Lemon Meringue Pie. Maddy is laughing. She had forgotten how much she liked working in a kitchen. Most of her fondest childhood memories were of those times.

"Can you tell me?" Maddy asks, "Where someone could learn to cook like this, I mean professionally?"

"Chef's school is where you want to go," Katy says.

"Do they require a high school diploma?"

"Do you mean a 14-19 diploma? I don't think so. Not all of them at least. How old are you?"

"Katy!" Mrs. Jones chastises her. "That's rude."

"Oh I don't mind," Maddy says. "I'm nineteen, apparently."

"Don't you know?"

'Yes, but I sort of forgot my last birthday."

"You did?" Katy says. "Then we should bake you a birthday cake."

Just then the door opens and Mrs. Winslow enters. Kate suddenly moves to check on the stew pot, trying to look busy.

"Miss Maddy," she says. "There you are. We've just been informed that Mr. Mycroft is on his way home for luncheon. You might want to change."

"Why would I…?" Maddy begins to say until she looks down and notices that the red dress is now coated with flour. "Of course."

Maddy goes back to the room where they had placed her when she arrived and finds that all of the clothes from the hotel are in the closet. She takes off her flour covered clothes and rolls them up placing them on a table, then she takes a shower. Hope springs up inside her like sunlight at dawn. She's thinking about a future.

For years she had lived without a future, taking each day as it came, but after talking to Kate and Mrs. Jones she has decided what she wants to do with her life. She will learn to be a chef. She lets the warm water stream over her until she remembers that Mycroft is on his way home. She walks out of the shower, drys herself, then wraps a towel around her waist. She enters the bedroom just as Mycroft walks in.

"Hello," she says with a silly grin on her face. Mycroft says nothing. He just walks over to her and removes her towel.

* * *

The phone rings and Mycroft rolls over Maddy to pick it up. "Yes, Mrs. Winslow? Could you keep it in the warmer for now. I think we'd like to eat closer to teatime. Yes. Thank you, Mrs Winslow." He hangs up with a frown on his face.

Maddy looks up at him. Her arms clasped over her chest. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"I heard giggling in the background. I'll have to have some words with the staff."

"Oh Mycroft, let them be happy for you. It must be boring for them, taking care of an empty house. Let them have their fun."

"But it's not dignified."

"And having me for lunch is? I think that deserves a laugh."

Mycroft looks down his long nose at her, pushing her arms to the side to expose her skin. Then he lays beside her with his head on the pillow as he watches her.

"Are you going back to work?"

"Not today, but I have a cabinet meeting at eight tomorrow," he says raising his hand to trace the line of her cheek. Maddy puts her head against his chest. The smell of musk and aftershave is wonderfully sensual.

She looks down at him. "You're so pale," she says, "do your legs ever see the sun?"

"Not usually, but if you'd like, we could try the country house. There's a swimming pool."

"But doesn't your mother live there?"

"Yes," Mycroft says.

Maddy puts her head back on his chest. "We better get dressed. I made us a pie."

"You made one?"

"Of course, what else do you expect me to do when you leave me alone for hours?" Maddy smiles as she rolls out of bed. She walks over to the wardrobe "Can you tell me what kind of clothes I'm supposed to wear for tea?" Mycroft walks over to stand beside her. Maddy laughs.

"What?"

"It's just you still have your socks on, and those garters are hilarious."

"I thought that garters were supposed to be sexy."

"On women, yes."

Mycroft raises his nose ignoring her jibes as he reaches into the wardrobe pulling out a blue dress. "Try this," he says removing his socks and garters as he heads for the shower. Maddy lays out her clothes and then follows him.

It's a funny sight, Mycroft Holmes in a fluffy pink robe looking both ways to avoid anyone seeing him make a dash for his bedroom, but it's necessary. Dressing being such a complicated thing for him.

Half an hour later, Maddy sits in the private dining room eating pie with her fork in her left hand because her right hand is holding Mycroft's.

They retire to the children's room and sit side by side on the sofa. "So what did you do today?" Maddy asks him.

"Meetings," Mycroft says. "Can't talk about it, official secrets act. What did you do today?"

"Oh I don't have to tell you," Maddy says. "You can't afford my thoughts."

Mycroft smiles reaching into his waistcoat pocket. He pulls out a penny and hands it to her. Maddy holds the copper coin in her hand, he must have asked someone to get it for him because she knows that he hasn't gone near a store or a bank today.

"So what are you thinking of, Madeline?"

Maddy leans on his shoulder and looks up at the clouds painted on the ceiling. She stares at one of the birds. It looks like it might be an angel. "I've been thinking of going to cooking school after I leave here." Mycroft stiffens and stares at her. "Not sure yet how to pay for it, but I like cooking. I had forgotten how much."

Mycroft's thin lips push together, and she glimpses the tip of his tongue. He takes a breath and says, "Are you leaving?"

She smiles and leans over to hug him. "I'm just thinking," Maddy says, "I'm not planning to go anywhere for a long time. Not if I can help it."

Mycroft relaxes back onto the couch. He puts an arm around her shoulder, but a few minutes later, he stands. "I have some work to do," he says. "I'll be in my study."

.

Maddy sits alone reading Great Expectations which she finds on the bookshelf. She punches at her pillow but it's nowhere near as comfortable as Mycroft is. Without Mycroft there, she's incredibly bored. She goes to the phone and calls John.

"Hello," John says.

"Hello, this is Maddy."

She doesn't know how, but she can hear his grin. "So Maddy, how's Mycroft?"

"He's fine. I'm fine too."

"Good," John says. "Is Suzanna's last name Miles, because I've got a lead?"

"Yes!" Maddy says, her face brightening. "It is Miles! I remember now. We joked about how many miles apart we would be when she left."

"Did you name a number of miles?"

"Excuse me?"

"If I knew how far away she went, it just might help with locating her, stupid thought. Well, I'll keep on it. You have ...fun."

"Stop smiling!" she says before hanging up the phone.

Just then there's a knock on the door and Ann looks in. "Miss Maddy, Mr. Mycroft has asked for you in his study." She leads the way through the hall and then points to the door. It is a heavy wooden door with a high-contrast grain and gilded, raised panels.

Maddy enters and looks around the room. It has a high ceiling, and is full of books. The chairs are leather with gold studs. The curtains are rich tapestry. Maddy looks, but there are no pictures of ducks on the wall. For some reason she thought that a man's study had to have ducks. Mycroft sits behind the desk, a serious expression on his face.

"Please sit down Madeline," he says.

Maddy sits in the chair across from the desk. She pulls the chair closer so that she can reach out and lay her hand on top of his. He pulls it away, taking out an envelope, and sliding it across to her.

Maddy opens the envelope to find a credit card, a check book and photographs of some posh flat. "What is this?" she asks.

Mycroft does not meet her eyes. "I am reminded that we have not yet formalized our employment agreement. I have taken the liberty of securing a flat for you. It is not far, and it has excellent security. No need to fear kidnappers there. I've opened a bank account in your name with an advance for you. I hope that the amount is adequate. We'll have to go to the office to fill out the full agreement, as a notary will need to be involved. Luckily my secretary…."

"Mycroft?" she says. "I'm not going to work for you. I'm already working for your brother, remember?"

"And where, exactly, is he?"

"I can't say." Maddy pushes back the checkbook, card, and pictures.

Mycroft pushes them back toward her. "They're yours," he says, "If you want them. You obviously want to go off on your own, and you can't live there without money. There will be more if you need it."

"I don't want your money." Maddy stands and walks around the desk. She lowers herself to her knees beside Mycroft's chair and takes his hand. "What is this about? This wasn't your first time, I can tell, so that's not an excuse. The drugs are out of your system. Why are you trying to buy me off like some… mistress in a bad TV drama?"

Mycroft tilts his head toward her. Then looks away. "This situation, the kidnappings, they were my fault. If I hadn't put you in harm's way, you would not have been forced to… you would not have been endangered. I realized, when you said that you wanted to leave, that..."

"I don't want to leave, Mycroft," Maddy says. "I like this. I like you. I was just talking about possibilities. I know how things go. I'm in the wrong place, and soon enough you'll realize it and give me my marching orders. I knew that from the start. I just suddenly realized that I didn't have to just go back and live on the street. That I could do something with my life even without a degree. That it is possible to get back on my feet. I don't feel like a nobody anymore. I feel, useful again, and I wanted to share that with you. To tell you that I'll be okay even when you ask me to go."

"I don't want you to go," Mycroft says. "Will you please... stay?"

Mycroft Holmes is not a overly talkative man. He tries to get his point across with as few words as possible. Maddy focuses on his face. His eyes are questioning, imploring. His mouth slightly open. This is a man used to ordering people around, and yet he's asking, begging.

Maddy realizes that this question is more important than it appears to be. He is asking her to remain in this house with him, with no qualifier like, for the rest of the week, or until I get tired of you. He is asking her to move into his home, permanently.

It doesn't make sense for a homeless woman to move in with someone essential to the British government. She won't even pass a security screening, much less know what to do if guests ever came over. It scares her to think of all of the trouble that she can get into. She's afraid of posh neighborhoods, and security guards, and money. She should step back. Remember she is a nobody. Remember that she owns nothing here. She shouldn't let herself get spoiled just because of a passionate fling. She looks into Mycroft's face. It is starting to slump. His eyes drop, and the edges of his lips turn down again. He's reading her expression, trying and failing to keep from showing how disappointed he feels.

Suddenly Maddy hears her mother's voice in her mind, _"Don't let other people define you Maddy. Don't let other people limit you. Follow your heart, and it will lead you true."_

She smiles and takes his hands in hers. "I'll stay. I want to stay ...with you."

Mycroft slides out of his chair onto his knees. He kisses her hands, before wrapping his arms around her, and hugging her to his chest.


	23. Bliss

Happiness is something that neither Maddy nor Mycroft have much experience with. It usually means for them a brief moment, like the satisfaction of a meal just eaten, or waking from a restful sleep. The next few weeks, however, are filled with days full of happiness. One might even hazard to call it, bliss.

They aren't necessarily exiting days. Maddy hardly ever leaves the house, but each one adds to the next bringing something new and unexpected. Maddy falls into a routine that is in no way dull or boring. This is what Maddy's new life is like on a typical day.

.

Maddy opens her eyes and stares at the alarm clock. Five minutes to go. She always wakes before the alarm. She is used to waking before the sun to avoid things such as garbage trucks and angry store owners. She turns over and looks at the sleeping face of Mycroft Holmes. He sleeps on his back. Maddy remembers hearing some poem about kings sleeping on their backs. She can't remember it now.

Mycroft's face looks odd when he's sleeping. His long nose and arched forehead lie still in a way that it never does when he is awake. For a moment she thinks of the rigor of death, but then his lips move. She pulls herself up, leans over, and kisses them so lightly that he does not wake.

When the alarm goes off, Maddy rolls out of bed. She never touches Mycroft's clock, because turning off his clock is part of his routine, and he gets very fussy when his routines are disturbed. She turns back and watches as his eyelids flutter, half opening as he pulls himself up to turn on the snooze function. He lies back on the bed then, arms outstretched, eyes open staring at the roof of his canopy bed. Maddy asked him once what he was doing, and he told her that he spends the first ten minutes of each day rearranging his mind palace. She doesn't really understand what he means, but she knows that he doesn't like to be touched then, so she puts on her slippers and robe, and quietly slips out, paddling down the hall to her own room.

Maddy showers quickly, drying herself and trying out perfumes before putting on something from the closet. Mycroft likes to see her in nice pastel suits or tailored dresses in the morning. Sometimes she appeases him, but today she chooses a pant suit and trainers. She puts on a pair of stud earrings and checks to see that her mother's necklace is still on. She reaches out and touches the citrine bracelet and the pepper necklace sitting in a bowl on her vanity while silently saying a prayer for Abud and his brother.

Opening her eyes, she grabs a brush and rushes back to Mycroft's room throwing herself down on the empty bed as she brushes her hair. Maddy loves to watch Mycroft dress. He's so particular about it. Meticulous in his choice of every garment. She is learning to read his moods by his clothing choice. A gold tie represents privilege and tradition. A red one means forward thinking and sternness. Those are the colors that he wears the most. The subtleties of fabric and pattern are beyond her, but she knows they mean something in his mind. She wonders if he chooses the pattern to please himself, or if he picks them to affect others. Probably a bit of both.

She watches as he comes out of the bathroom, always in a robe, never a towel alone. He puts on his boxers and walks into the closet to choose his suit. Maddy can't tell the difference between his suits, but Mycroft insists that the cut of one and the fabric of another send very different messages. Mycroft puts on his trousers and shirt and then walks to the door opening it and reaching down to pick up the shoes that he has left out for polishing. He carries them into the closet and puts them on a shelf beside a host of other brown and black leather shoes. Picking a black pair instead to wear today.

He goes back into the bathroom to shave and comb his hair, and then he puts on the rest of his suit. He gives himself one last look in the mirror, and then turns toward the door waiting as Maddy passes him his pocket watch. They've done it so often now it's become a ritual in itself. He pays her with a light kiss that still has the power to curl her toes, before leaning back, attaching the buttonhook, and slipping the watch into his waistcoat pocket. She smiles at him remembering the night before when putting the watch on the table was the first step in their other ritual where she undresses him.

They breakfast in the formal dining room because Mycroft likes to sit by the giant chess pieces there. Maddy sits beside him and says things to amuse and mildly irritate him.

"So what country are you planning on dominating today?" Maddy asks as she spears a sausage with her fork.

"I don't plan on dominating any countries today," Mycroft says. "None in particular at least."

"I suppose you don't have to plan it. It just happens," she says passing him the newspaper. "We got a call yesterday from the Diogenes club."

"Really, what did they want?" Mycroft opens the newspaper to the international section.

"They wanted to know if you were sick. Apparently your chair hasn't been sat in for over a week. I suppose that it's getting lonely."

Mycroft glances at her over the newspaper, and then turns the page. "Perhaps I will stop by for a few hours after work today."

"Is that so? Mrs Winslow tells me that my shipment of French lingerie should arrive this afternoon. I'll have to try them all on tonight to see if they fit. Too bad you won't be there."

"Well, I suppose that the club can do without me for one more night," he says folding the paper and placing it down on the table. "After all, that chair isn't going anywhere. Oh! but I just remembered. I have a security council meeting. I'll be late coming home."

"How late?"

"Don't expect me for dinner. I'll eat out."

"Watch that rich food, or I'll have to sew elastic into your waistband."

"Now don't you start making fun of my weight too. Sherlock always used to do that. Where did you say he is?"

Maddy smiles taking a sip of tea in silence.

Mycroft glances at his watch. "Time to go," he says snapping it closed with a click. Maddy walks him to the door. He puts on his coat, and she passes him his umbrella before giving him another kiss. Sometimes it's just a peck on the cheek. Sometimes she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down so far that he drops the umbrella to put his arms around her back and hold her. Today it is somewhere in-between. He gives a little smile turning up the corners of his lips before walking out of the door which she closes behind him before turning to go to the kitchen.

Maddy enters the kitchen and puts on one of her aprons. She has five of them now. She bought the first one, a large white one, because she was terrified of getting her expensive clothes dirty, but now it has become a sort of obsession. Today's apron is a red one that says "Kiss the cook".

Maddy, Katy and Mrs. Jones chop the vegetables for the staff's lunch. For a house nominally for one person there is quite an army to feed: The cooking staff, the head housekeeper and occasionally her nine year old son who attends school nearby, the chauffeur, Ann, Marie, and two to five security men depending on the time of year, and what the political situation is. They aren't all technically _'his'_ security, but his house serves as some sort of secondary security hub in a network that Maddy very quickly realizes she doesn't want to know more about.

In the afternoon, Mrs. Jones takes her to meet a friend who owns a cooking school. Mycroft is insistent that she never leave the house unescorted. Usually this means taking the car, but today, Mrs Jones simply tells security where they were going, and they take public transportation.

It's strange to be standing in the tube now. Before she had been afraid that people would look at her torn clothes, and try to beat her up. Now when people look at her, they see someone completely different. They wait and let her pass, whereas before they would look down at her with a sneer before clutching their wallets and pushing ahead. It bothers her, because she knows that she is the same person that she was then.

As they exit the tube and walk the few blocks to the the culinary school, Maddy remembers how much she's missed the fresh air. She's been inside for too long.

The woman who runs the school meets them in her office. She says that normally they do require a diploma for entry, but they will accept a record of culinary apprenticeship in lieu of a diploma. Mrs Jones agrees to take her on as apprentice, and they walk out of the office, forms in hand, passing happily through the cloud of delicious smells floating out of the classrooms..

Maddy beams as they make their way back to Mycroft's place. She thanks Mrs. Jones profusely, then her phone rings. The phone is new, a gift from Mycroft, and quite expensive. "Hello," she says.

"Maddy, it's John." the voice on the line is shaky and low. She almost can't hear it over the street sounds.

"Maddy, can you please come over. I think...I think that I'm having one of my danger nights."

"Where are you?"

"In the flat."

"Stay there," Maddy says. "I'm on my way."

She excuses her self from Mrs Jones and heads toward Baker Street.

Maddy opens the door which he's left unlocked, rushing up the stairs to 221B to find John sitting dejectedly in his chair. He glances up at her and then turns back to stare at the empty chair across from him.

The two chairs are angled to face each other for ease of conversation. Now, one sits empty. There's no one for John to talk to. He stares at the empty chair and sits lower in his own, his bare toes digging into the rug as if to hold him there, as if he fears the world will turn upside down, and he'll drop to his death.

"John," Maddy says dropping onto the carpet by his feet to interrupt the path of his down-turned eyes. "I'm here."

"Thanks for coming, Maddy," he says. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, I just didn't know who else to call. I was looking at my blog, and a reminder popped up. Today is the anniversary of my moving into this apartment. It was the day after I met Sherlock for the first time."

Maddy puts a hand on the edge of the chair, a presence to comfort without the threat of touch. John runs his fingers through his hair, dropping his hand back down to the arm to sit within an inch of hers. They sit in silence, Maddy leaning forward, listening, as John sits back, eyes glistening as his lips curve into something that is neither a frown nor a smile.

"I was just thinking of how much my life has changed since then, since... Sherlock. I can remember how I came all the way across town because he texted to say that it might be dangerous, only to find him lying on that couch in danger of nothing more than overdosing on nicotine patches. His moods were volatile. He was always alternating between lethargy and over-excited puppy. I could hardly keep up with him.

"It's not fair! It's not fair that he's gone. Sometimes I ask him not to be dead. I look up expecting him to walk back through that door. If I could see him again, I'd... I don't know if I'd kill him or kiss him. Actually I do know. I'd kill him for jumping, for leaving me this way. I know it doesn't make any sense. Nothing makes sense anymore. I hate it. I hate this empty half-life that I've descended to. It's like his moods and his boredom have infected me. I can't find anything worth getting up for anymore."

"John," Maddy says reassuringly, "It's okay. It's okay."

"No it's not!" John yells. "I am so far from okay, I don't know what okay looks like any more. It just… hurts."

John's head drops back down to his hand. Maddy looks around the room. It is dark even in the daytime as the drapes are pulled shut and only one lamp is on. She walks to the window and opens the curtains. A shaft of white light steams in, but it only seems to make the shadows darker as motes of dust circle in the light. Her phone beeps.

She's just got a text from Mycroft's security asking where she is. She powers off her phone, and places it in her pocket.

"John," Maddy says. "It's this place, You need to get out, do new things. get your own apartment."

"But this place was where ..."

"Yes John, it was. 'WAS' , that means in the past. If this place is too painful, stay somewhere else for a while. Sherlock wants you to be happy. He wouldn't want you to stop living just because he's gone."

"Well he is gone, so he doesn't have a bloody right to tell me what to do now, does he!" John snaps suddenly angry. "It's always been like that with him. He does something monumentally stupid and leaves me to pick up the pieces. Well, I can't do that now. I can't fix this!" Then John puts his hand over his face so that she can't see him cry. She leans against his leg and turns her face away.

The sun begins to set, and the light from the window begins to darken. Maddy thinks of Sherlock and what he wants. He wants John safe.

"I miss him," John says in a whisper.

Maddy nods. John shudders. She can feel it through his leg. She wonders what her mother would do if she were this sad, then she remembers. She gets to her feet and walks around the chair leaning over it and placing her arms lightly around his shoulders in a kind of hug. "There, there love," she says cradling his head. "In time, all will be well." John shudders again, but does not cry.

.

The next morning, Maddy walks into the dining room just as Mycroft is finishing his breakfast. He sips his orange juice, then places it down on the table, pursing his lips as he watches her take the seat beside him. Marie brings out a plate for her, and she thanks her before turning to Mycroft who seems to be examining the financial page of the newspaper with interest.

"How was John?" he asks.

Maddy sighs. "Not that good. He's been wallowing. Sometimes I want to kill Sherlock for what he's done, making him watch like that. Making John think that there was something that he could have done to stop it. It was cruel for him to do that to him, and then go."

She waits for Mycroft to make the customary, ' _and where exactly_ _did he_ _go?'_ jibe, but it doesn't come. Instead he pointedly keeps his face hidden as he says, "This isn't the first time that you've spent the night with John Watson."

Maddy replays his words in her head, and then turns her body toward him as she asks, "Mycroft Holmes, are you jealous?"

He lowers the paper and glances at her, and she can see his eyebrow knitting. "I left my watch in my waistcoat," he says. "I had to call down to the laundry to get it back."

Maddy smiles knowing that he had missed more than his pocketwatch. She gets to her feet and leans over, putting her arms around him to kiss his pouting lips, while trying her best not to ruffle his coat.

Just then Mrs. Winslow enters. She waits politely for Maddy to finish before telling Mycroft that he is urgently needed at the ministry. Mycroft rises to his feet and nods to her, Then he marches off to the entry way with Maddy trailing behind him. He picks up his coat and umbrella, and then glances back at her. Maddy stands by the door with her hands clasped behind her back, smiling up at him.

He reaches out his hand to touch her chin. He angles it toward him to get a better look at her face. His eyes move back and forth across her features, then the tip of his lip turns slightly up before he releases her, and walks out of the door.

Maddy stands beside the closed door for a few seconds, smiling, before going to her room to shower and get dressed.

When she enters the kitchen, Katy rushes toward her excitedly waving a book of exotic birthday cakes. "Look what I found," she says. "Tell me which one you like the best, and I'll make it for you."

Maddy leafs through the pages and looks at cakes that look like waterfalls or temples.

"Oh, these are much too fancy for just Mycroft and me," Maddy says looking at one cake covered with a sheet of chocolate and topped with a cage of woven candy.

"Then why don't you have a party," she says. "Invite a few friends over. The cake won't be too much for you then."

"But, I don't know that many people," Maddy says.

"You don't need more than... a half-dozen. We could make a dinner, and then serve the cake. I can't remember us ever having a party here before."

"Can we really throw a birthday party? Do you think that Mycroft would mind?"

Mrs. Jones looks up from the pot she is stirring and smiles saying, "I think that if you showed an interest in having some of the sun, Mr. Mycroft would start investigating how to get it shipped here."

Maddy smiles, and then continues with her work dreaming of the moment when Mycroft will come home again so she can ask him.


	24. The Party

Two weeks later. Maddy is impatiently bouncing up and down in the formal dining room as she waits for her guests to arrive. She's wearing her green dress, the one with the impossible train. Mycroft had insisted on this dress, the same one that she had thrown on in the hotel so long ago. The doorbell rings and after five or six bounces John is shown in.

Maddy feels silly wearing a formal evening gown in the house, but she visibly relaxes when his eye's widen. "Holy Jesus and Mary, I like the dress," John says.

"Thanks," Maddy replies, "and thanks for coming." He reaches out to shake her hand, but she pushes past it hugging him instead. "I'm terrified," she whispers into his ear.

"Of what?" John says stepping back. "Frankly I can't think of anything scarier than waking up to Mycroft Holmes every morning, yet you seem to manage it."

Marie is taking the coat of a man that Maddy vaguely recognizes. John steps aside and introduces him. "Maddy, you've met Detective Inspector Lestrade haven't you?"

He reaches out his hand, not quite able to stop his eyes from looking around the room as he shakes hers. "Miss St. Martin, pleasure to meet you again. Interesting place. I don't work much in this part of town. Interesting," he says staring at the life sizes statue of a man on a horse.

"Won't you sit down?" Maddy asks. "Dinner will be served shortly."

"Where is Mycroft?" John asks.

"He's on his way. 'Unexpected developments delay' and all that."

The bell rings again and Catherine, the director from the shelter, arrives. Her mouth forms a little O shape when she sees Maddy and the splendor surrounding them.

"Maddy?" she asks hesitantly as if she is unsure that she is the same person. Maddy steps forward and shakes her hand, before leading her to her seat at the dining room table. There are introductions. John rises out of his chair and belatedly so does Lestrade. They have all regained their seats by the time Mycroft arrives. He sweeps into the room with an apology and goes directly to the head of the table.

Maddy rises from her seat, her smile focused only on him as he approaches. He reaches out taking her hand and releasing it before turning to face the others.

"Good to see you again, John, Inspector Lestrade, and ... I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Catherine Woese," the woman says rising to her feet to shake his hand. "I run the Riverside Homeless Shelter. It's so good to meet you, Mr. Holmes."

Maddy starts to sit down, but Mycroft walks to the head of the table and pulls out the chair. "You should take the seat of honor, dear. This is, after all, your birthday party."

"Your birthday?" Lestrade asks, "How old are you?"

"It's not really my birthday," Maddy says. "My birthday passed months ago. I just missed having a party before now."

"I think what the good inspector is trying to ascertain is whether you are of legal age," Mycroft says pushing her chair forward for her. "I can show you the birth certificate if you'd like."

"That won't be necessary," Lestrade says fussing with his napkin which is folded in the shape of a swan.

The meal is only three courses so that they will have room to eat the cake. A monstrous confection despite her insistence that they keep it small.

"Small? Don't be ridiculous. You've got to have leftovers for us to eat." Katy said at the staff party earlier that day. It was a much happier affair where Mrs. Jones presented her with her first set of cooking knives, a treasure that is currently stashed in the original box under her bed.

The conversation at this party is much more stilted as none of them are very outgoing, and they are all interested in very different things. Lestrade keeps distractedly asking about the things in the room while Catherine monopolizes the conversation with the woes of the shelter. She tells Mycroft how desperately they need more funding. He is expert at deflecting her, but Maddy's nerves are on edge. She bites the edge of her lip listening as Catherine mentions how funding goals have not been reached for the last three years.

"Your things are still at the station," Lestrade interrupts to tell her. "You can come by anytime to pick them up… or you could send someone, perhaps."

"The station?" Catherine asks.

"Yes. I work at Scotland Yard. Maddy was involved in a case… but it's best not to go into that here, now that I think about it."

"No, I think not inspector," Mycroft says offering the inspector a glass of wine.

"I'll get your things for you Maddy. You can pick them up next time that you come over to my place," John says.

"Thank You," Maddy says quietly, her eyes downcast.

When Catherine starts into a rant on how the Millennial charity fund needs sponsors, Maddy jumps to her feet, mumbles an excuse, and runs out of the room.

John finds her crying in the library. He stands by the door and asks "Maddy, are you okay?"

"No," Maddy says turning her head in an attempt to hide the tears on her cheeks.

John walks into the room and closes the door. Maddy appreciates the fact that he doesn't turn on the light. She likes the room dark, lit only by a single lamp in the corner. She has an overwhelming desire right now to hide.

"This is all going wrong," she says.

"What's wrong?" John asks placing his hands on her shoulders, "We had a nice meal, and a frankly spectacular cake. Lestrade is so overwhelmed by this house that he can't even close his mouth What could be wrong about that? By my estimation, everything is excellent. "

"No it isn't," Maddy says. "This is stupid. I'm not a fine lady who can have a party in a place like this. That woman looks at me and sees a pig dressed up as a doll, and that's what I am. I can't do this. I wanted to impress Mycroft with how mannered I could be, but I was a fool to think that this would ever work." The tears redouble, and Maddy looks around for something to wipe her face with before she ruins her dress. John pulls out a handkerchief and wipes her eyes. Then he pulls her into an embrace.

"There, there love," he says. "In time, all will be well." She smiles digging her face into his shoulder as he gently pats her her back.

The door to the room opens then and light streams in. A dark shadow falls at their feet. John turns his head, and Maddy looks up to see the still silhouette of Mycroft Holmes. No one can stand as still as Mycroft can when he is surprised. Maddy dries her eyes and steps out of John's arms.

"Mrs Woese has gone," Mycroft says. "I promised her a generous check if certain documents arrive on my desk first thing tomorrow morning, and she promptly left."

Maddy turns toward the door. With the hall lights in her eyes, she can't see his face. After a moment, Mycroft turns and walks off. John rubs her back once, and then follows him back to the dining room.

They enter to find Lestrade touching the spear of one of the statues. He jumps guiltily, but Mycroft takes no notice, going back to his place at the table. John grabs Lestrade's shoulder and makes his apologies. "If you don't mind, I think that we'll be going now too," John says dragging Lestrade out of the room. "Good bye Maddy, Mycroft. Thanks for a pleasant evening."

Maddy steps out into the hall, watching as the front door closes behind them. She walks back into the dining room staring at Mycroft who is facing the window, his hands clasped behind his back. The staff enter to clear off the table, and Mycroft stalks out of the room toward his study. Maddy follows him.

"Close the door will you please," Mycroft says once he is inside. He stands behind his desk facing away from her.

Maddy closes the door looking over at him. "You sound like... I don't know like a parent about to chastise his child."

"Interesting choice of words don't you think? A parent and a child. I suppose that I am old enough to be your father. Strange of me to imagine myself differently, is it not? But we think of ourselves as young inside. Don't we? Vanity. I am not immune to it. No... I suppose that I also am not immune to weakness. I used to mock Sherlock for it, but in the end, what am I but another lonely, naive man, who's met a woman clever enough to make him feel... special."

"What are you saying Mycroft?"

"Did you do the same for John Watson? Make him feel special? Comfort him when he was vulnerable? I suppose that anything is better than a life on the streets. Even staying with an old man simply because he has money."

Maddy's lips firm into a hard line, "Mycroft Holmes, what exactly are you accusing me of?"

Mycroft turns to face her. His lips are turned down at the corners. "What would Moriarty think of the iceman now? I wonder."

"Mycroft?"

Mycroft raises an eyebrows then and his mouth falls open. "Or perhaps ... maybe I was fooled from the very first...When you left to go to John's house earlier this month, I saw you stop and talk to a man on the street. Was he your contact? Sending messages for you, but to whom? Moran? Did you ever really work for Sherlock, or did you simply take that phone from the person who did? Amazing how successful it's been for you. One stolen phone and you not only have John Watson in the palm of your hand, you also have taken in the great Mycroft Holmes. Very clever, very clever indeed."

"I don't know what's going on in your head, Mycroft, but I do know that I don't like it. I don't like it at all. I don't even remember talking to someone on the way to John's house, and I certainly don't remember you being there. Were you having me followed? What kind of jealous, possessive sod has his girlfriend followed wherever she goes?"

Mycroft looks at her with hard eyes. He sneers, lowering himself to sit in his chair. Maddy rushes forward and slaps her hands flat on his desk before leaning over it to yell at him. "I do NOT work for Moriarty, and I have never heard of this Moran fellow, and if you are looking for fault, I would remind you that it was YOU, Mycroft Holmes, who scooped me up off of the street against my will in the first place!

"I came in here to apologize for inviting Mrs. Woese because she spent the entire time pestering you for money. I came to say that I was sorry for not living up to your expectations because I've never been trained to entertain in this kind of environment, and I'm not good enough for you, but I've changed my mind. Maybe it's you who is not good enough for me.

"It's not like I've never seen possessive, jealous jerks who imagine all sort of things and beat their wives for talking to the grocery store attendant or the mailman. I'm sorry to say that young as I am, I already know a great deal about that kind of man, and I was a fool not to notice the signs in you.

"You don't see things as they are. You've built this model in your brain, and you are arrogant enough to think that the world you've built in your head is the real world. You've never lived in the real world. You've never even seen it. You have your assistants and your security to keep it far away from you. No wonder you are paranoid. No wonder you can't understand the emotions of real people.

"Instead, you let your fantasies take over. Yes, I have comforted John Watson. I did it because Sherlock Holmes asked me to, and because he needed someone, and I am decent enough to feel compassion for his suffering. Comforting means just that. Being there with someone when they are sad. It is exactly what he was doing for me in the library when I left the room after having a panic attack because Mrs Woese made me feel like I was still a homeless nobody. Comforting does not mean rolling around on the floor having sex, but even if it did, a mature person would ask me about my actions and feelings and not simply try to deduce them from surveillance camera data and too many readings of John le Carré novels.

"I'm sorry, Mycroft Holmes, but I didn't agree to live with you because of your money, or to pump you for information, as if you've ever told me anything that you shouldn't. I was standing right there when you asked me to stay. YOU ... ASKED... ME. But if you feel that I've inserted myself into your life under false pretenses, that I'm secretly passing information to someone else, then all that I can say is that I've greatly overestimated your intelligence.

"What secret information have I gleaned from all of this espionage I'm supposedly doing? What kind of boxers you wear? What your favorite dish is? If that's what you really think then I'm sorry. With your permission, Dad, I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I'll take my things and go. Goodnight, Mycroft," Maddy says walking out of the study and closing the door behind her.


	25. Celebrity

Maddy lay in the children's room with her arm covering her eyes. Her high-heeled shoes have been discarded beside the fireplace, and her bare feet stick out over the arm of the couch. This night has certainly not gone as she had planned. How had it degenerated so completely? It seems ridiculous and yet inevitable that she should fail.

There's a knock at the door. It opens slowly, and Mycroft enters the room. He walks forward, standing beside the couch so that she can just see his dangling watch chain through the space under her arm. She frowns.

"My apologies," he says. "You were quite correct. It was I who instigated virtually every act in our relationship. I was not tricked or coerced. I had no illusions about your background, nor did I make any demands for exclusivity between us. My… jealousy was uncalled for. Forgive me."

Maddy drops her arm and looks up at him. From below, she can see his stiff lips jutting out beyond his chin, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. He bows his head looking down at her, then he takes something from his pocket and drapes it around her neck. Maddy reaches up and touches the necklace. It feels cold against her skin. She sits up, and he leans forward fastening it for her. Rising, she walks over to the mirror and examines it. The necklace is beautiful. It holds seven emeralds surrounded by diamonds. The middle one is bigger than her thumb and has a center that sparkles blue. She's heard that blue emeralds are the most expensive.

"I never had a chance to give you my gift," Mycroft says. "I wanted to see how it looked with this dress, and I see that they go together very well. I know how much you like jewelry, and I hoped that perhaps, you would find some value in something that I had given you."

Maddy covers her mouth with her palm as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. "Wow! Exactly which museum did you have to rob to get this?" she says. "Did they count all of the crown jewels when they were returned, or did you sneak this out while they weren't looking?"

"Do you like it?"

Maddy lifts her hair, pooling it on top as she turns her head from side to side. "This is amazing, but Mycroft, this is much too fine, too expensive. Where would I wear it? "

"You can wear it around the house. It's yours. Do with it what you will."

Maddy releases her hair and turns toward him, arms out to the side. "But, besides this dress... I have nothing in the closet that is good enough to wear with it."

"Then I suppose you should wear nothing at all." Maddy blushes. Mycroft takes a step toward her and bows his head. "Madeline, you never told me. Do you forgive me?"

Maddy says nothing. She simply pulls her arms through the straps, and drops her dress to the floor.

* * *

Maddy looks quite different from her normal self with her hair swept up and fastened by a gold pin shaped like a feather. Her pale pink tailored suit is quite smart and complements Mycroft's grey one. They lean their heads together so that Mycroft can whisper to her. "That man there is the foreign minister," he says. "The man next to him is Subramanian, head of a multinational corporation based in Dubai. He wants to import pharmaceuticals from South-East Asia."

"Pharmaceuticals?"

"Prescription drugs is what he claims to sell, but he actually runs one of the world's largest opium rings. He knows that I oppose him, so he will try to get to me through you."

"I'm not sure of the etiquette, Mycroft, if he makes a pass at me, am I permitted to spit in his face?"

Mycroft raises the side of one lip slightly. "No dear, I am afraid not. And here is someone that I need to talk to, can you find something of interest at the tea table for a few minutes?"

"Certainly my love," Maddy says walking gracefully across the room. Maddy is proud of her walk. Mrs. Winslow has spent countless hours working on it with her. They finally found one for her that is unhurried and yet purposeful. She tacks a noncommittal smile onto her face and picks up a plate.

As she looks at a selections of sweets, a woman in blue turns toward her. "Hello, I don't think that we've met. I am Frances Simpson-Stuart head of the North London Ladies Botanical Society. And you are … ?"

"Madeline St. Martin," she says. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, you're American! So very pleased to make your acquaintance. I had heard that Mr. Holmes was engaged, but frankly I did not believe it. He has been one of our most resolute bachelors." She gives a small laugh. "I was wondering if you'd like to attend one of our meetings, we meet on the first Thursday of each month."

Maddy feels a hand on her shoulder, and turns to see Subramanian standing beside her. "I was hoping to have a talk with you Miss St. Martin."

"Excuse me," Mrs. Simpson-Stuart replies a bit ruffled at the interruption, "Mr… ?"

"Subramanian," he replies. "I wouldn't think that you'd have time to play at garden parties, Mrs. Simpson-Stuart. Didn't you just lose a fortune in a failed Russian pyramid scheme?"

"Why, I..." she begins before falling silent.

"If I were you, I'd hurry home. Your husband is currently sleeping with his mistress on Bond street, but he's been secretly replacing your jewelry with paste. I'd put them away before he arrived home if I were you."

Mrs Simpson-Stuart gasps, then she hurriedly turns and leaves. Maddy looks at the browned man with a face like a barracuda. He apparently has a personality to match. She pointedly says nothing.

"Ah, Miss St. Martin, I have so wished to meet you. The woman who tamed Mycroft Holmes must be formidable indeed," he says, his fingers exploring her shoulder.

"Good afternoon," Maddy says stepping out of his grasp and extending a hand to shake. He reaches out to touch her hand caressing the palm before shaking it. She pulls her hand out of his grasp resisting the urge to wipe it on her skirt. "How may I help you today, Mr. Submaranian? Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"Yes, thank you," he says and Maddy turns away from him picking up a tea cup. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye afraid to let him out of her sight. He's smiling, the tips of his pointed teeth jutting past his lip. "I find you fascinating," he says. "We were all certain that Mycroft Holmes had no heart, and then someone comes out of nowhere to steal it. What are you, exactly?"

"Milk and sugar?" Maddy asks.

"Cream, no sugar."

"Lemon?"

"No thank you."

"Here you go, and if you will please excuse me…." Maddy turns away from the table hoping to escape his company, but his hand darts out clasping her forearm firmly.

"I was hoping that you would take a message to Mr. Holmes."

Maddy reaches over and pries his fingers off of her arm before pointing in the direction of the crowd. "He's right over there, or if you like, his secretary can make you an appointment."

"Tell him that if he opposes me, then he will regret it," Subramanian hisses.

Maddy laughs. "Are we in grade school, passing threats back and forth like silly children? I'm sorry, Mr. Subramanian, but I don't feel like playing games today. Enjoy your tea." Maddy turns her back on the man as she walks off in search of Mycroft. Maddy doesn't like bullies. Not at all.

That evening as she dangles her feet out of the tub in Mycroft's bathroom, she tells him what she'd said. Mycroft pauses in the motion of tying his tie. "Did you really say that to him?" He smiles smuggly. "I don't suppose that he is used to anyone talking to him that way, however..." The corner of his mouth turns down again. "You should be careful. Mr. Subramanian is a very dangerous man."

"Dangerous or not, he's a bully. And he's rude."

"It is true, there is no excuse for being rude, even in matters of international trade."

"Oh and Mycroft, I'll be visiting John tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"I just wanted to tell you so that you have time to schedule someone to follow me. Will it be Briant this time? You used Walter last time and he made a mess of it. I was tempted to wave."

"Very funny dear. I don't have you followed everywhere."

"Liar. You think that I don't know the registration numbers of all of your cars by now?"

"Maddy, I have enemies, Subramanian being one. I don't want you to be endangered again."

"Alright, I see your point with Subramanian, but someday this will have to stop."

"Of course, dear."

"Mycroft, you know that I can tell when you are lying."

He smiles. "I'll be going to the club tonight. I have things to think about. Don't wait up for me."

"Alright dear," Maddy says. "Tell your chair 'hello' for me, and don't eat too many of those exotic sweets. You are getting a little pudgy around the middle."

"Not meaning to be rude, dear, but you've been looking a little rounder since you've started cooking those rich sauces."

"But it's my homework!" she says frowning.

He bends over and kisses her frown away. She puts a dollop of soap bubbles on his nose and smiles back at him.

.

At John's the next day, Maddy looks through her bag which he brought back from the police. "I threw out the food." John says. "It was pretty dried up, I hope that you don't mind."

"No I don't mind. Thank you," Maddy says unfurling the black scarf and examining it.

"And I also have something else that you might like," John says handing her a note card. It reads Suzanna Miles and has an address and phone number.

Maddy screams clapping her hands together. "You found her?"

"Yes, she's attending Uni in Manchester."

"Is this really her number?" Maddy asks. "I can just call her, and she'll be there?"

"As far as I know."

Maddy pulls out her phone. It's glossy and expensive. She stares at it for a moment and then puts it back into her bag. "Can I borrow your phone?" she asks John.

He starts and then says, "Yeah," and passes his phone to her.

Maddy dials. On the third ring she picks up.

"Hello." A woman's voice says.

"Hello, is this Suzanna Miles?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's Maddy, Maddy St. Martin."

"Maddy who?"

"We used to play together at Maman Mildred's when we were little."

"Maddy...Maddy? Oh my God Maddy! Where are you?"

"I'm in London."

"Well I'm in Manchester, but you must know that, you called me. Oh Maddy, how are you doing? When did you arrive in the country?"

"Actually I've been in the UK for quite some time, but I only just now tracked down your number."

"Maddy, I really can't believe it. Just yesterday I was thinking of Maman. I'm sorry I didn't send you a funeral notice, but I didn't know your address. I'm in school now, but if you can get up to Manchester you're welcome to bed down in my flat."

"Well, I'm a bit tied up in things now, but I'll certainly do that soon."

"Great! I hate to rush off, but I have a class. Call me later?"

"Definitely."

"Super! Maddy, I can't believe it's really you. Well, I'll talk to you later. Cheerio!"

"Goodbye Suzanna, talk to you soon." Maddy cuts the connection. She's breathing rapidly a huge grin on her face. "She remembered me," Maddy says smiling.

"Of course she remembered you. You are very memorable, Maddy."

Maddy looks askance at him pursing her lips to keep herself from telling him of the dozens of times that he had walked past her on the street without seeing her when she was homeless. "Thank you, John," she says instead.

"So Maddy, how does it feel to be the future Mrs. Mycroft Holmes? Every time I think of it, it still amazes me."

"It amazes me too to tell the truth. I don't really know what to think of it."

"And did you really meet his mother?"

"Yes, she's actually very nice. I thought that she'd be really mean with me trying to steal away her eldest and all, but I think she thought that he was a lost cause. She's just overjoyed to see him thinking about marriage at all. Carrying on the family name and all that."

"I can see how that would be a concern with Mycroft and Sherlock as sons," John says with a grin. Maddy glances over at John. He'd let the name Sherlock slip by without his usual expression of alarm. Maddy walks over and pats him on the shoulder.

"He's taking me to some society to do. I don't understand any of it. I'm just going to try not to make a fool of myself."

"Just do what I used to do with Sherlock," John says. "Stand close to him, smile, and try not to let him say too much."

"I don't think it's quite the same with Mycroft, but staying close and smiling sounds like a plan. Well, I'd better go before Mycroft's security comes knocking," she says hugging John before leaving. She sneaks around the corner and climbs into the passenger seat of the car surprising Briant who was supposed to be following her secretly. He drives her home.

.

A week later Maddy sits in a the same black car next to Mycroft. She pulls the fur shawl over the thin straps of her evening dress. "Do I really have to do this?" Maddy asks. "I thought you said that you never went to these sort of functions."

"I don't usually, but it will be useful to be seen there nonetheless."

"Why?"

"I have been told that some people have been considering giving me a title."

"What? Like 'Sir Mycroft'? And you want to get it?"

"No, I mean to dissuade them. I can't remain unobtrusive with my name on the Roll of the Peerage. It would be a disaster."

"Won't going to this function that you don't usually attend look like you're jockeying for the job?"

"Interesting mental image, Madeline," Mycroft says. "It may appear so, but it is the quickest way to talk to each of those involved, in private."

"So why do you need me?"

"My dear, an engaged man can hardly go to such a function alone. Besides, it is a chance for me to show you off."

"And an excuse for me to finally wear my necklace," Maddy says stroking the side of the center emerald carefully.

Unused to shows of affection when not in the house, Maddy is surprised when Mycroft uncharacteristically puts and arm around her and pulls her in close. He lowers his head so that his nose strokes her cheek and in a husky voice he whispers, "You never need an excuse to wear it, Madeline. You can wear it whenever you like."

"Or whenever _you_ like," Maddy says with a rueful grin. They kiss, and kiss again. By the time they part, they've arrived.

There are photographers. Mycroft's security keeps them back, but there are interested glances from all around them. Maddy guesses that this must be how a microbe feels to be examined under a microscope.

The hall is very large. There is a stage, and tables, and lots and lots of people. Maddy panics. It's only Mycroft's hand on her forearm that keeps her from bolting. She does what John suggested. She stays close to Mycroft and smiles trying not to look too visibly terrified.

After a half-hour she has calmed down enough to sit by herself while Mycroft does his rounds. She sits in the corner of the room, in the place farthest from everyone else waiting for Mycroft to return, and hoping that no one tries to talk to her. Unfortunately, a man in a tuxedo with an old fashioned white ruffled collar walks over and sits in the seat right beside her.

"Miss St. Martin is it?" he says. "Maddy St. Martin?"

"Yes, hello," Maddy says trying her best to sound polite.

"Quite a coup for you isn't it to land a big fish such as Mycroft Holmes. Quite an accomplishment for someone who was so recently living on the streets."

"Excuse me?" Maddy says turning to stare directly at the man who now wears a sneering smile above his ruffled collar.

"I met a friend of yours, Mrs. Catherine Woese. She told me that some of the most prestigious families donate to her shelter, and she mentioned your name. I wonder what the committee will think when they find out that Mycroft Holmes' fiancée was once Maddy Mohammad, the unwed harlot of a common gangster."

Maddy opens her mouth in shock. She had expected many things to happen at this ball, but being called a harlot was not one of them. She rises to her feet to find that Mycroft has materialized at her side.

"Bridges," he says. "What have you been saying to my fiancée?"

He looks up into Mycroft's hostile face. "Nothing that isn't true," he says.

"He says that he will tell the committee my background. He wishes to bully you into stepping down."

"Bridges," Mycroft says sternly. "Feel free to tell whomever you wish whatever you like as long as you do it far away from us."

The man stands up bristling. "I may just do that," he says. "There's a man who has been asking about you and your woman. I bet that Mr. Subramanian would be pleased to hear more about her past."

"Good night," Mycroft says. Bridges sneers, and then walks away. When he's gone, Mycroft turns back to Maddy to find her hyperventilating.

"But Mycroft, if he knows about me... can't he use it against you? And Subramanian. You told me he's dangerous. What will we do?" Mycroft motions for her to be quiet.

"You mustn't let them fluster you darling," he said. "Bridges is petty. He sees only tiny things such as position and title. He doesn't have a clue who someone like Subramanian really is."

"But Mycroft!" Maddy's eyes are starting to water. Mycroft grabs her hand and leads her out of the room, and down the hallway into an empty cloakroom. He closes the door, and then turns to face her, hands on her shoulders.

"You cannot do this, Madeline," he says. "If they see you upset, then you lose. Caring is not an advantage. You need to take a breath, get yourself together and act as if you are far above them, because you are! Not one of those people out in that room could have survived half of the things that you have lived through. You not only survived, you thrived, you rose above your circumstances because you're strong. You are an amazing woman, Madeline, and I admire you. So go out there and show Bridges that what he says means nothing at all to you. Show them the brilliant person you are. Dazzle them as you dazzle me every day."

Maddy's eyes water now for a completely different reason than they did before. Her heart is light. No one has ever said anything of the sort to her. To have Mycroft Holmes, the great Mycroft Holmes, say that he admires her... Maddy is walking on clouds. She smiles, dries her tears, and walks out into the crowd. She introduces herself to people and shakes hands. In fact, she does so well that it takes all of Mycroft's considerable influence to keep them from adding his name to the honors list anyway. That night she sleeps clutching Mycroft's side, his necklace still hanging around her neck.

.

Despite Mrs Woese's annoying talkativeness, Maddy can't find the words to refuse when she asks her to come to the dedication of the new homeless shelter the next week.

"It was your fiancee's money that helped us build it, besides you used to live here and work here," she says. "Maddy you have to come! Don't you realize how they think of you on the streets? People who thought that they had no chance in life have hope now because of your example: A girl from the streets who marries a rich man. It's a real life Cinderella story. Everyone here is buzzing with it. Please, it will make it that much more special if you can come."

Maddy sits in the car fidgeting. She doesn't want to be a celebrity. She doesn't know what to do around admirers. She imagines how she would feel if she were still on the streets and she heard a story like the ones that they were telling about her. She would want to see the woman. She would want to touch her for luck.

Maddy had asked Ann to go to the bank and get her three dozen two pound coins to pass out, lucky coins. Her purse jingles when she shakes it. Then her phone rings, and she answers.

"Hello, Madeline."

Maddy can't help but smile at the sound of his voice. "Hello Mycroft," she says. "I'm going to the homeless shelter dedication."

"I know. I just finished work, and I think that I will go with you, if you don't mind."

"Really? That would be wonderful, but... I'll be late."

"Don't worry. It is customary to be fashionably late to such an event. I'll direct the driver to come pick me up, shall I?"

"Please. I can't wait to see you."

When the two finally arrive at the new homeless shelter, a modern place of blond wood and brushed metal railings, Mycroft climbs out of the car, and Maddy comes after him. She turns back to get her purse which she's left in the car. Suddenly light flares off of the windows and a boom deafens her. She turns back to see the homeless shelter wrapped in flames. Great beams of broken wood jut up into the sky. The metal railings have been bent by the explosion, and the roof has collapsed. A fire glows yellow stretching up to the sky in spires interwoven with columns of thick black smoke.

Maddy stands open-mouthed staring at it. Then Mycroft pushes her back into the car, and they drive away. His phone is in his hand almost before he touches the seat. "This is Mycroft Holmes. We have a condition five at the New Riverside Homeless Shelter. Mobilize a team immediately copy all of the surveillance tapes for this area. I'm traveling to my house, but I'll meet you at headquarters. Contact me as soon as you have news."

Maddy can hear the sounds of sirens. She's still in shock. "Why?" she says. "Why would anyone blow up a homeless shelter? It makes no sense."

"It was Subramanian," Mycroft says his brows knitting in an expression of anger. "This was an assassination attempt."

"But Mycroft? How did he know that you were coming? You didn't decide to come until just a few minutes ago."

"Not for me," Mycroft says surprised that she doesn't understand at once. "This was an attempt on you. Subramanian blew up the homeless shelter to kill you."

Maddy falls back in her seat, her mouth open. In the distance, she can see smoke. She closes her eyes, but she can still see the fire behind her closed eyelids. She sees huge wooden beams and twisted metal, and the faces of young girls buried in the burning ruins, all because they'd hoped to catch a glimpse of her and find a bit of luck. Maddy starts to cry.


	26. The pumpkin shell

The car drops them off at home. Mycroft stays only long enough to talk to security before getting back into the car and rushing away. Walter, one of their regular security, comes up from the basement and situates himself just inside the front door.

Maddy goes to her room. She changes out of her dress and into a comfortable shirt and trousers. Then she paces through the halls rubbing her neck, unable to sleep.

Her phone keeps ringing. First Mrs. Jones, then Katy, then Ann call. They've all seen the fire on television, and they feared the worst.

She assures them that she is fine, and then goes into the kitchen to find Mr. Tennison is there. Mr Tennison is the butler. She only occasionally sees him, because he has officially retired, but the formal way he's dressed, and the fact that his thermos is sittings on Mrs Winslow's desk suggest that he plans to stay a while.

He hands her a mug of warm cocoa, and she smiles at him. It heats her hands, so she holds it close to her chest hoping to warm up her heart.

"There's a television in the security room if you'd like to watch the news, Miss." Mr Tennison says.

Maddy nods, then she walks through the hall, passing Walter and pattering down the stairs to reach security. She knocks, and they let her in.

Security is a small room with a host of monitors in one corner and a little kitchenette and snack room in the other. A man with headphones glances over at her when she enters, before turning back to look at the screens which are constantly watching the grounds. One shows the inside of the front door, and she wonders how often they've watched her say goodbye to Mycroft through those screens. Two men sit at the wooden table watching the television which shows a blazing building. The bright red flames reflect off of the river illuminating the dark waves. Thin streams of water soar in arcs toward the blaze, but they seem much too small to have any effect on limiting the conflagration.

Under the image, words flash across the screen:

 _Homeless shelter ablaze._

 _Fifteen found dead in riverside fire._

 _Accident or act of terrorism?_

Maddy turns away then. She can almost feel the heat of the blaze, hear the sound of the boom, the sounds of the fire crackling. She leaves the room and walks down the hall to Sherlock's lab.

The concrete walls and stained table seem comfortingly real to her after an evening which felt like walking through a dream. She goes to the metal bunk in the corner and lays down on it. Rolling onto her back, she looks up to see the chalk image of a skull scratched on the ceiling over the bed. Is this what Sherlock thinks of when he organizes his mind palace in the morning? Maddy rolls on her side and falls asleep.

She wakes to the touch of a hand on her arm. Looking up, she sees Mycroft's concerned face. He's sitting on the edge of the bunk still in his clothes from the previous night. Maddy sits up and hugs him.

"Madeline, how are you? I didn't get a chance to talk to you last night."

"I'm fine."

"I am sorry to inform you that Mrs Woese is dead. At last count, there were seventeen dead, thirty-five injured. There may be more, but many of the homeless fled the scene before the authorities arrived. "

"What about Subramanian?"

"If you'll excuse the pun, we are hot on his trail," Mycroft says. "My people are working around the clock. We will prove that he was the one responsible for this action."

"Then what?"

"Then, we will see that justice is served," Mycroft says his face becoming positively scary as his frown lengthens. "I would like for you to remain at home for the next few days for your own safety. Subramanian is becoming desperate, and desperate men are prone to lashing out."

"Don't worry," Maddy says. "I don't even plan to leave this room. I've been kidnapped before, remember?"

Mycroft's lips make the ghost of a smile that vanishes almost before she sees it. "I remember," he says brushing his lips across her forehead and kissing her distractedly. "I just came home to shower and change my clothes. I'll be going straight back to work." He tightens his hug, and then releases her before leaving the room. Maddy lay back down on the bunk.

For seven days, she lives in the basement in Sherlock's room. She goes upstairs to cook and eat in the kitchen, working on technique with Mrs. Jones. The security detail changes everyday making it difficult to plan the amount of food to make. They come into the kitchen surrounded by the mutter of walky-talky chatter and leave suddenly in a group without ever saying why.

Katy is flustered by all the fuss. "Do you know that they searched my bag when I came in today?" she says. "This is getting out of hand."

"Don't worry," Mrs Jones says calmly. "These alerts never last that long. Before you know it Mr. Mycroft will have found those responsible and everything will be back to normal."

The phone rings and Mrs. Winslow comes in from her office. "Mr. Holmes is coming home for tea," she announces.

Maddy runs out of the kitchen and stands in the hallway waiting until the door finally opens. Mycroft looks tired. He walks in nodding at her as he trudges past toward his room. Maddy sits on his bed and waits while he showers. He comes out and dresses in the navy suit that he reserves strictly for home use.

"You are not going out again?" Maddy asks.

"Not for some time, no," Mycroft says. "We have him, but things are never as easy as showing the facts, even if they are irrefutable."

"What do you mean?"

"We have proven that it was indeed Subramanian who was responsible for the bombing of the homeless shelter, but he is too well-connected. He will not be tried by an English court. Since those wronged were mostly of no consequence, there is not much demand for justice."

"I'm sorry Mycroft. I know this meant so much to you."

Mycroft sits beside her on the bed. "I would think that it would mean something to you as well," he says. "Your friend, and possibly others that you know, were murdered. Don't you want revenge?"

"What's the point in revenge? It never brings anyone back from the dead."

"But it can keep those responsible from threatening the living," he replies stroking her face with his hand. "Subramanian is a persistent man with a long memory. How am I to keep you safe, my treasure. Shall I lock you up in a pumpkin shell like Peter?"

Maddy recites the poem:

 _"Peter, Peter pumpkin eater,_

 _had a wife and couldn't keep her,_

 _put her in a pumpkin shell,_

 _and there he kept her very well._

"That doesn't sound very good, Mycroft. I don't want to be kept a prisoner. I want freedom."

"Security is better," Mycroft says kissing the side of her neck. He pushes Maddy down onto the bed pinning her wrists so that she can't get away. "I may hold you here, but in exchange I will give you everything." He lowers his face to hers, his nose stroking the side of her cheek. "Do you want your freedom now?" Maddy feels Mycroft's coat buttons pressing against her abdomen. His breath is warm against her cheek. It speeds up, chest filling and falling ever more rapidly. His lips brush hers lightly, then harder as he becomes filled with desire. His fingers curl around her wrists. She closes her eyes and sighs. "I tried to protect Sherlock and failed dismally. I won't fail with you, Madeline."

Mycroft's nose and lips gently caress the side of her neck, and Maddy considers. What if he does keep her? What if Mycroft Holmes locks her up like a fish in a tank. It wouldn't be very much different than her life is now. So what if she never goes out alone. Does that really matter? When Maddy was on the streets, she was truly free: free to fail, free to starve, free to die. Was that life so much better?

"Mycroft, let me go."

Mycroft stops, lifting his face up to look at her, before rolling off of her and sitting up. He leans against the post of the canopy bed. "Madeline," he says. "I don't know what I would do if you were hurt."

"Don't worry, Mycroft. Until this thing with Subramanian is resolved, I will go or stay as you tell me. Let's eat lunch now. We made _Baba ghanoush_. One of the security guards is from Jordan." That entire evening, the two of them stay no more than an arms length apart from each other.

They fall into the old routine again. Waking in his bed each morning and saying goodbye at the door. Maddy stays at home, but she continues cooking. On Thursday, they have a party because she has finally finished her apprenticeship hours, and she has officially been admitted into the cooking school. Maddy hopes that the crisis will be over before the new term begins.

As she goes to her room to dress for dinner, Mycroft calls. "Subramanian is being deported tonight. I will go personally to see that he gets on the boat."

"Take me with you," Maddy says, "I need to see this too."

.

The sound of a horn blares in the cold evening as Subramanian's boat prepares to sail. Mycroft and Maddy stand side by side arms touching through their thick black coats as they watch.

A car pulls up, and he disembarks, the man with the face like a barracuda. He walks past them turning to have a last talk with Mycroft. "So, you have won this round, but I have learned something as well. I have learned the soft spot of Mycroft Holmes. Do not think that I will ever forget it. And you, Maddy," he says the word with a leer. "I look forward to seeing you again." He looks her up and down and smiles that smile that shows the points of his teeth before turning away.

Mycroft is standing very still in the way that he does when great calculations are passing through his brain and he has no time to respond to his body. The boat sets sail. Subramanian leans against the railing looking back at them. Maddy can feel his eyes on her as it pulls away, his evil intent is as palpable as the evening fog, just beginning to form in wisps under the stern of the boat. A security man with a headset on leans over to Mycroft.

"Sir," he says. "He is in position and we have a clear shot. What is your order?"

Mycroft narrows his eyes. If possible, he stands even more still, then he says, "Do it."

A sound rings out, and Subramanian falls back onto the boat which continues to sail away. Maddy steps forward starring as people crowd around the body. She looks up just catching some movement in the building behind her, then she faces Mycroft. The edge of one lip is turned up in a smile. He glances down at her, but she turns away from him, and staggers with shuddering steps back to the car.


	27. The aftermath

Maddy stands in her study, her hand covering her mouth. She's made a decision, but she doesn't like it. She walks down the hall to the dining room where Mycroft sits reading reports. He looks up at her face and sets the papers aside. "You're upset about Subramanian," he says.

Maddy sits down beside him. "Yes," she says.

Mycroft rubs his hand across his scalp smoothing back his hair. "A man like that doesn't give up, and doesn't stop when he's made up his mind. He would have continued the attempts until you were dead. It was the only way to remove him as a threat. Do you understand that?"

"You ordered him killed."

"Yes, and if I had killed Moriarty, Sherlock would never have left Baker Street. Sometimes serving your country means taking decisive action."

"That's what I need to talk to you about," Maddy says. "I'm a weakness for you, Mycroft, a vulnerability. Subramanian said it, and it is true."

"No, you're not. You're my _fiancée_. With you, I am happier than I have ever been in my life."

"But is happier better? I have no doubt that the world is a better place without that man in it, but killing him?"

"Sometimes in the service of one's country, it is a man's duty ..."

"But this isn't about duty. When you ordered Subramanian killed, did you do it for the British Government, or did you do it for me?"

Mycroft stares back at her in silence.

"You used your power and the resources at your disposal as a vehicles for your own personal revenge. Were you doing your duty then? Was that the best way to serve your country?"

"Madeline," Mycroft begins hesitantly. "There are many shades of gray. Sometimes in the pursuit of what is best for one's country..."

"I don't care about _your country_ , Mycroft. I care about you! The thing that gives you the most pride in yourself is how well you serve the British Government, but you did a piss poor job of it today, and the reason was me. You said it yourself, _'Caring is not an advantage'_. I am a target, Mycroft, a big, public, easy to see target and they will never stop gunning for me, not as long as I'm with you."

Storms flutter across Mycroft's brow. "You...fear for your safety? My security can be increased. We will make sure that..."

"It's not my own life that I care about, Mycroft. Live, die, that was everyday on the streets, but if I were to be killed, if one of your enemies gunned me down, what would you do?"

Mycroft's eyes darken, "I would use all my power to destroy them."

"Exactly, and if it became known that Mycroft Holmes serves his own interests before that of the government, they would stop trusting you, and you could lose your job. The job that gives you your purpose. The job you worked so hard to create.

"John told me that Sherlock once said 'you ARE the British government.' You hold yourself to a higher standard than other people. You sacrifice your interests for your country. It is one of the things that I admire most about you. Being with me has made you less than you should be, and I don't want to do that. I refuse to do that."

"And does that mean..." Mycroft's voice cracks as he says, "I don't have a right to be happy?"

Maddy reaches out to touch both sides of his face with her hands. "How long would we stay happy together, love, if you didn't have your work? No one else can do what you do, and if you can't do it, it will destroy you. It will tear you apart. Caring for me will hurt you, personally and professionally, and I refuse to drag you down into the gutter with me."

Maddy releases Mycroft and sits back in her chair, but Mycroft reaches out and takes her hand. His hand is shaking. "Exactly what are you saying, Maddy? Do you...want to postpone the wedding?"

"I only want you to be the man that you are meant to be," Maddy says rising from her seat. She lets go of his hand, and walks toward the door.

Mycroft stands saying, "I'm meant to be with you!"

Maddy looks back at him with sad eyes. She shakes her head and leaves.

.

Maddy lays on the bed in her room all night without sleeping. She remembers her first night in this house. It seems a lifetime ago.

Just before dawn, she hears Mycroft's footsteps patter past her door. She rises to her feet and walks into Mycroft's room. He's in the shower, so she sits on the bed and waits. He stares at her as he comes out of the bathroom, and then he dresses in silence. He wears the black tie and the charcoal grey suit. As he approaches the door, Maddy rises and steps in front of him. She reaches out her hand to give him his watch.

He stares down at it, then he reaches past her hand and slips his fingers around her waist pulling her toward him as he leans over to kiss her.

Their lips come together softly. Then he takes the pocket watch from her hand, placing it carefully on the bedside table. He steps forward then, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeper and deeper until they fall back onto the bed with Maddy's hair splayed out around her head like a halo. They look into each others eyes, but just like the first time, there are no words. It is the only time that anyone can remember Mycroft Holmes being late for work.

* * *

Closing time for most government buildings has long past when Maddy enters Mycroft's office that evening. He is sitting behind his desk. He simply stares at her. Maddy is wearing a jean jacket and trousers with a backpack slung over her arm.

"Your security is pretty lax," she says. "I got in using your assistant's old card." She holds the card up between her index and middle finger, before placing it down on his desk.

"I saw you on the camera and buzzed you in," Mycroft says, his voice a monotone.

"You know why I'm here,"

Mycroft says nothing. Maddy reaches into her backpack pulling out a small velvet box. She places it on the table. "The ring is yours. I hope that you don't mind but I'd like to keep the necklace."

"It is yours. Anything that you want is yours."

"Except you."

"That too," he says in a whisper.

"You know it's right, and I know it's right. What else is there to be said? Oh, there is one thing. I want you to promise me, no surveillance, no men following me around, no cameras turning to see what I'm doing, no tracing my credit card receipts. I want you to let me go, to let me be free. Can you do that for me, Mycroft, please?"

"But I want you to be safe. I don't want you to have to go back to living on the streets."

Maddy smiles at him. "That won't ever happen again, thanks to you, I have my confidence back, and prospects for the first time in my life. You know that I will always love you, Mycroft."

They lock eyes for a moment, and then she turns her face away. "Well, it's been real," she says and walks to the door.

"Madeline!" he cries. She turns back toward him to find that he's jumped to his feet. For a moment he stares blankly as if he has lost his train of thought. Then he says simply, "You know where to find me."

Maddy holds up her phone and smiles. She puts it back into her pocket. "Goodbye Mycroft Holmes," she says.

"Goodbye, Madeline," Mycroft says teasing a smile from the edge of his lips that quickly vanishes. She leaves then, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

The next morning, she waits at the station for a coach to take her to Manchester. Maddy called Suzanna from John's house, and she invited her to stay as long as she needs to get herself situated. She stands before the mirror in the coach station bathroom looking at the time on her phone. Then she opens the cap and stares at the blue line on the pregnancy test. Four months she had been with Mycroft, and she hadn't had a period in all that time.

She tosses the box and the tester into the trash and goes outside. The air is chill but fresh. She looks up at a sky, white with clouds and smiles. It's good to be free again. Sherlock asked her to watch over John for as long as she could. Well, she's sorry, but she'll have to do it by phone now.

The cooking school forwarded her application to their sister branch in Manchester, and with her apprenticeship papers and letters of recommendation from Mrs. Jones, the dean of the school, and a respected military doctor, she's been accepted.

The necklace sold for a small fortune to a buyer who had approached her during the Knight's ball. She now has enough money to pay for her schooling, and still have some to outfit a room for the baby. If it's a boy, she'll name it Abud. If it's a girl, Eliza Mohammad. Eliza is her mother's name.

Maddy looks up and sees a camera pointed toward her. She stares into it as if she's looking into Mycroft's eyes. She knows that he's probably watching, despite his promise. She blows him a kiss just as the bus arrives. Then she climbs on board.

She's leaving London with so much more than she arrived with. Abud had always been so careful with birth control. He was terrified of raising a child on the streets. Mycroft, on the other hand, had been clueless that first night. He was able to predict, with intricate detail, policy decisions a thousand miles away, but he had been unable to predict the possibility of having a woman in his bed.

She hopes that the child's name will confuse matters. Make Mycroft a bit less likely to interfere. She puts her hands on her stomach and smiles. She may have lost Sherlock, she may have lost Mycroft, but God help anyone who tries to take this little Holmes away from her.


	28. Her First Christmas

_Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat._

 _Please to put a penny in the old man's hat._

 _Please to put a penny in the old man's hat._

Maddy stands on the chair and places the angel on the tree. The tip of the tree bends a bit, but she fastens it securely by wrapping the string around the branch a few more times. The angel is made of thick dough, decorated with hard white icing and silver French dragees. She steps down and stands back to admire her work.

The small tree sits on a coffee table that has been pushed up beside the shelf that they call the mantle even though the little apartment has no fireplace. It's decorated with stars and angels, bells, trumpets, and French horns all baked by Maddy in their oven. One large pink and white ornament says Baby's First Christmas.

"What do you think?" Maddy asks.

"Beautiful!" Susanna says bouncing Eliza up and down on her hip as she looks at the tree, all white dough and white icing and white lights on a green background. "That's just beautiful."

"Well then those piping lessons didn't go to waste."

Eliza starts to fuss then reaching out a hand toward her mother. Maddy steps down and takes her. She swings Eliza around and holds her up in front of her to give her a closer look at the tree.

"What do you think little 'Liza?" she asks, "Do you like your first Christmas tree?"

Suzanna puts on her coat and hat. Then she turns back to Maddy. "You should come with me. I feel bad leaving you alone on Christmas eve. Dad can survive one more for dinner."

"No Suzanna, I already told you, Christmas is a time to spend with family. Besides, you spend so much time with me already. I don't know how to thank you for all your kindness."

"Kindness? Don't be ridiculous. You're like a sister to me, and now I have a little girl to watch grow up. I couldn't be happier if she were my own daughter. Are you absolutely sure that you'll be alright alone over Christmas?"

"Of course. Besides, I'm not alone. I have Eliza."

Suzanna smiles leaning forward to hug Maddy and Eliza hard. Just then a horn sounds. Suzanna peeks through the window. "My ride is here. I'm off. She kisses Eliza's forehead. Picks up her bag and purse and leaves with a "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas to you too!" Maddy calls after her before closing the door to shut out the draft. Eliza fusses at the cold and Maddy holds her close to her chest picking up a blanket and wrapping it over her as she sits down on the couch the baby firmly in her arms.

Eliza pushes at Maddy's breast, and she laughs. "Hungry are you?" she says smiling as she lifts her shirt and feeds Eliza until her eyes close and she falls asleep, a trail of milk spilling from the edge of her mouth. Maddy lifts her to her shoulder and burps her. Then she stands and rocks her in her arms before taking her over to her crib which she has placed on the edge of the room by the kitchen which is the warmest place in the small apartment where Maddy lives.

Small as it is, Maddy feels that her cozy apartment is better than any mansion. She has decorated every available surface with cheap tinsel and cut paper decorations, and she'd splurged to buy a little nativity set that plays over twenty six different Christmas songs. She walks over to the mantle and presses the button. The mechanical bell-like sound of "Hark the herald angels sing" starts playing, and Maddy sings along:

 _Hark the herald Angels sing_

 _Glory to the new born king_

 _Peace on Earth and mercy mild_

 _God and sinners reconciled_

 _La la la I don't remember_

 _all the verses this December_

 _La la la la la proclaim_

 _Christ is born in Bethlehem_

 _Hark the herald Angels sing_

 _Glory to the new born king._

Maddy laughs at herself and plops back down on the couch picking up Suzanna's gift to her, a picture book of Corsican cuisine.

Maddy looks at a picture of sliced tomatoes on a plate next to French bread covered with melted cheese and her mouth waters. She's wondering what to cook for a late supper when a knock comes at the door.

Maddy rises cautiously. She peers through the peephole and sees a strange man. She opens the door a crack and says, "Hello, may I help you?"

The man stares down at her in silence, and she examines him. He's tall. He wears black pants and a dusty grey jacket zipped all the way up to his neck, a grey knit cap and his face is covered by a bushy black beard. She looks up into his eyes which are a shocking blue-green and her mouth falls open.

"Maddy?" he says, his deep voice cracking a little as he speaks.

"Mr. Holmes!" Maddy says, tugging the door twice before closing it and unlatching the chain. She thrusts the door open wide and pulls him into the apartment before stepping outside and looking to see if anyone else had noticed him. Then she closes and locks the door shutting out the cold and the outside world. She turns toward him then impulsively hugging him to her chest. "Mr Holmes!" she exclaims. "It's so wonderful to see you again."

"Is it?" he says, his voice low and gruff. Sherlock's arms dangle a bit. He never quite knows what to do in a hug. "and don't call me 'Mr Holmes'. I'm Black now. John Black."

"John, eh?" she smiles. "Can't live without hearing that name, can you? How about I call you Sherlock, would that be alright?"

"No one has called me that for a long time," he says. "Yes, I think that would be acceptable when we are alone. We are alone in the house aren't we Maddy?"

"Almost. This is a new look for you. Love the beard by the way. It looks...really different."

"That's the idea."

Maddy reaches out and grabs Sherlock's hands. For a moment he starts to pull away, then he relaxes and lets her hold them. They are chilly and rough as if he has spent a long time out in the cold. Maddy remembers what that felt like. Compassion wells up in her and tears appear on her face. Sherlock jumps to see them. "Is something wrong?" he asks.

"You've had a long run, haven't you?" Maddy says, "A long run in the cold, and it isn't over yet. You're not ready to go back, are you?"

"No," he says pulling his hands from her grasp. "I shouldn't have come to see you, but when I saw your name in the directory as I was looking for… someone that I need to find. I was curious. I had to see if it was really you. When I stopped getting your texts, I wondered if something bad had happened to you. The last time that I saw you, you were homeless on the streets of London."

"So you haven't been back to London yet?"

"No, too risky. Too many people know me there. I just returned to the country yesterday. I hadn't noticed that it was Christmas until I arrived, and it was… everywhere. I suppose I was feeling a touch of nostalgia, but I won't stay long, just long enough to warm my hands, and then I'll go."

"Nonsense," Maddy says. "You're spending Christmas with me."

"But your flatmate."

"Suzanna's off for a big Christmas with her father's family. She won't be back for days."

"I have work."

"That will keep for a few days. I insist. I won't let my savior be alone on Christmas day. No way in the world is that happening."

"Savior?" Sherlock says questioningly. "I'm no hero."

"You're not?" Maddy mocks. "Then no need to act superhuman, sit down. I'll make some tea."

It's the tea that stops him. Maddy can see it in his eyes. It has been a long time since Sherlock has had a good cup of tea.

"I also made some Christmas cookies. I'm happy to find someone to share them with. Eliza is too young."

"Eliza?" Sherlock says turning to face the crib. He walks over to it and stares down at the sleeping baby. "A baby. When did this happen? Who is the father?"

"John Watson."

Sherlock takes three steps back, a look of shock on his face. Maddy laughs so hard that she has to bend over to catch her breath. "Just kidding. John isn't the father. I just wanted to see your face."

Sherlock blinks rapidly two or three times, "Why would ...?"

"All I'm saying is let's keep that discussion for another day. You thought that you were surprised when you thought her father was John...just wait."

Sherlock peers over at the sleeping baby. "Babies are difficult to deduce," he says. "It takes time before they develop identifying family characteristics. They are all very similar when they start out: Wet, round and loud. I don't find them very interesting before they are old enough to talk. By her size and weight, she seems to be about ... nine months."

"Yes, Eliza was born March twenty first."

"She came in with the spring," Sherlock says. Maddy's eyes glow.

She walks into the kitchen and starts the kettle before riffling through her collection of tea. Maddy finds the brand that John would always buy. She places the bag in the teapot and pulls out a tray, placing some sugar cubes in a small bowl as she searches out her best tea cups.

Sherlock turns and begins to walk around the room deducing for himself all that has happened to Maddy since he last saw her.

He sees the picture of Suzanna and Maddy in the hospital with the newborn Eliza, the decorations made of dough and piping, the letters from the Manchester school of culinary arts, a few Christmas cards on the mantle most of them addressed to Suzanna Miles. Sherlock reaches out his hand and picks up a blue card with silver snow flakes. He opens the card and his hand shakes as he recognizes the handwriting.

 _ **Happy Christmas, and good luck in your new life.**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **John**_

He holds the card in his hands and just stares at it. Then he rubs at the letters with his thumb tracing the path that John's pen took as he wrote it. He hardly hears the sound of the whistle, and only snaps out of his reverie when Maddy comes into the room carrying a tray laden with tea and cookies.

Sherlock places the card back on the mantle, his fingers lingering on it a few seconds too long.

"Sit, sit," Maddy says taking a seat on the couch and leaving the chair for Sherlock.

He sits.

"One lump or two?"

"Two."

"Milk?"

"Please."

Maddy makes the tea and stirs it before handing it to Sherlock. She takes her tea American style with sugar and lemon.

Sherlock takes a cautious sip, and then his whole face changes. He breathes in deeply and sags back into the chair as if he has finally arrived home after a long, long trip. "You don't know how long it has been since I've had a genuinely good cup of tea," he says.

Maddy grins. She lets him enjoy the tea in silence waiting until he puts the cup down on the table before trying to force an iced cookie on him.

"So," she says, "I can tell that a lot of things have happened to you since our last meeting."

"I could say the same of you," Sherlock says. "You came into some money. You had a baby, but the father...is it the man who gave you the pepper necklace? The man who died? Is that why you are raising her alone? Yet, none of her features are Middle Eastern.

"You met John. Not only that, but you became his friend. He doesn't send out that many Christmas cards. How did you meet him? You joke about him being the father. You can make such a joke because you feel comfortable around him, yet he doesn't mention the baby. John likes babies. He'd have said something, so he doesn't know. You consider him a friend, but you've kept this from him. Why? Is there someone in London that you don't want to know about Eliza?

"But a baby isn't something that you can just hide. And those presents under the tree. Most are small and inexpensive, but that one is clearly for the baby, and it's too expensive. The wrapping alone costs 40 euros. Yet this isn't from the father. If the Father is rich, and he knows about her, and cares enough to send that gift, why isn't he here? Why aren't you with him? Why are you and the baby spending Christmas alone? Oh, I see... YOU broke up with him. But then who is the present from? The baby's grandparents? There is no tag. Who gave you this gift?"

Maddy puts down her tea cup. "Actually, that gift was a bit of a mystery. It arrived a few days ago by mail. No card. No return address."

"Open it," Sherlock says. He leans forward excitedly. His eyes concentrating on the silver paper with the delicate pattern of rattles.

Maddy carefully opens the present unable to tear the paper now that she knows how expensive it is. Inside is a white box. She opens the box to reveal white tissue paper. She pulls out a pair of white leather baby shoes and a silver rattle.

Sherlock's eyes glaze over and he reaches out to gingerly to take the rattle in his hand, then he shakes it once. A pleasant tinkle fills the room and a look of joy and wonder overtakes his face. Then Sherlock jumps up and runs over to stare at Eliza. She opens her eyes and they stare at each other blue eyes to blue eyes. He shakes the rattle.

Maddy digs deeper into the box and pulls out a small white card. It reads.

 _For my dear, little granddaughter._

 _A. Holmes_

"I know who it's from," Maddy says.

"I do as well," Sherlock says. "It's from my mother."

"How did you know?"

"Because, when I was a baby, this rattle was mine." He hands the rattle to little Eliza who takes it. Then he begins to laugh and laugh. He laughs so hard that he falls over onto the ground. Maddy runs over wondering if he's having an epileptic fit.

"What is it?" She asks concerned.

"Mycroft..." he begins before dissolving in hysterics again. "You... and Mycroft?"

"Yes, he's the father but please don't tell him."

"Oh this is rich! I leave you behind to watch John, and Mycroft snatches you up. What about _'caring is not an advantage'_? What about _'attachment is a weakness'_ and then he ... and you." Sherlock has another laughing fit.

"Really, Sherlock it's not that funny. Look, you're upsetting the baby." Eliza sits up and shakes the rattle at Sherlock. The pleasant tinkle mixes with Sherlock's laughter until Maddy has to smile as well. Sherlock wipes tears from his eyes.

"I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard. Not since John..." Sherlock sobers. He looks at Maddy. "How is John?"

Maddy picks up Eliza and squats down to the floor where Sherlock still sits. "Fine," she says. "He's doing as well as can be expected without you. He misses you terribly."

Sherlock looks down at the ground.

"When are you going back?"

A frown covers Sherlock's face. "I don't know. I'm not done yet."

"Well, none of that's important now. I'll make you up a bed on the sofa. Here, hold your niece." Maddy hands Eliza over to Sherlock who holds her away from him like a bomb.

"You can put her down, she can stand, with help."

Sherlock places Eliza's feet on the ground and she stands shakily, the rattle in one hand, her other grasping Sherlock's arm. He stares at her, and she stares back, her eyes wide and blue, a bit of drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. "Uhm... uhm! She's dripping!" Sherlock cries.

Maddy looks through the closet searching for extra pillows and sheets. "There are blankets in the crib. Just wipe her mouth!" Maddy yells from the other room.

Sherlock creeps across the floor. One arm supporting Eliza who is shakily leaning against it. His other hand reaching out and pulling a blanket through the bars of the crib. It gets stuck and he tugs on it awkwardly trying to keep Eliza from falling as he pulls it loose. He falls over on his side, and Eliza totters a few steps forward falling onto Sherlock's stomach.

When Maddy comes in a few minutes later arms full of bedsheets, Eliza is sitting on Sherlock's lap.

"Sherl..lock, say Sherl...lock," he says to her mouthing the words as she stares open-mouthed at his face.

Maddy smiles walking past them toward the couch. "Oh, she doesn't talk yet. I have barely heard her mouth 'Mama' "

"Oh I don't know." Sherlock gives Eliza an inquiring look. "She may know more than she's letting on."

"She's a baby!"

"Exactly."

Maddy puts the sheets onto the couch laying the pillow on one side, then she turns toward Sherlock. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you've come. I've wanted to thank you for so long for... everything."

Sherlock looks up from Eliza who is chewing on his fingers. "But Maddy, I didn't do anything but burden you with responsibility. I should apologize to you for asking more of you than I had any right to ask...Is she getting teeth? Because her gums are very hard."

Maddy tucks in the sheets and then comes over and picks up Eliza putting her back into the crib. Sherlock climbs to his feet. "Maddy, I can't stay. I'm still hiding...hunting. I don't want to put you and your baby in danger. I'm safer alone."

Maddy puts an arm around Sherlock's wrist. "You are staying here tonight. On this I must insist. Christmas is a time to spend with family."

Eliza stands at the edge of the crib reaching out her hands toward Sherlock. She says very loudly, "Lock!"

Maddy and Sherlock stare at her surprised, then Maddy pulls Sherlock over to the crib lifting Eliza so that she can touch him.

.

It is a memorable Christmas morning for the three of them, with French toast topped with jam and confectioners sugar, and special Christmas sausages that she had mixed, ground and cooked herself. Silly Christmas music played by a glowing nativity set. Presents, a tree, a baby. Everything that makes Christmas special.

Sherlock takes a photo of real nativity scene, Eliza and her mother smiling. Maddy snaps a photo of Sherlock holding Eliza. He frowns reaching out his hand to grab the camera. "You can't show that to anyone." he says.

"Not now, but later he'll want to see it," Maddy says taking the camera from his hands and connecting it to her computer with the cable. She downloads the image, and Sherlock encrypts it with layers of protection before deleting the original from the camera, and taking numerous pictures of the decorations to clear the cache.

"When the time comes, I'll give you the password to open it," Sherlock says.

After lunch when Eliza finally tires of playing with uncle Sherlock, Maddy puts her to bed for her afternoon nap. Sherlock rises to go.

"Can't you stay longer?"

"No," he says wrapping his coat around him as he steels himself to return to the harsh, dangerous world that he has been living in for so long. "Thanks for the hospitality, and the tea."

Maddy stands by the door. "Sherlock," she says. "You know that you are always welcome in my house, and you know that I will always keep your secrets."

"I know," he says. "Despite everything that happened to you, you didn't tell Mycroft where I had gone. If you had, I would have known. Thank you for that."

"You're welcome. And this is for you. She hands a small bag to Sherlock and a clean white envelope."

"Biscuits?" he asks.

"Christmas cookies," she corrects him. "I didn't know that you were coming, so I didn't buy you a gift, but I hope you don't mind getting something second-hand."

Sherlock opens the envelope and pulls out the blue card with the snow flakes. He reads the words again _'Love John'_ and his face calms. He places the card in a pocket inside his coat. "Thank You," he says.

Maddy gives him one more hug. "You take care of yourself."

"And you take care of my little niece," Sherlock says, a smile touching the edge of his mouth. "And go take her to see John. He loves babies. And show her to Mycroft. He already knows all about her. He's just afraid to show his ugly face." Sherlock grins and his eyes grow round as if he's about to break out laughing again. "Making my agent pregnant. This is so... much better than just teasing him about his weight." Sherlock pulls himself together, and then nods once before slipping out of the door.

Maddy locks the door behind him and then walks over to the mantle picking up the rattle that lays in the place where John's card had been. She pulls out her phone and dials.

"Hello."

"Hi John, It's Maddy."

"Maddy, how wonderful to hear from you. Happy Christmas!"

"And a Merry Christmas to you too. You know, I was thinking about coming to London. Could I stay with you for a few days?"

"Of course, when?"

"How about the day after boxing day? I have some people that I want to visit, and I've got a surprise. I'll be bringing someone along with me. Someone you haven't met yet."

"Who?"

Maddy shakes the silver rattle.


	29. The sad side of normal

The brakes squeal as the bus pulls into the station. It rolls to a stop with a loud huff and hums as it sits before the glass windows of the coach station. She sits in the front near the aisle holding a baby in her arms as the people around her gather their things and rise to their feet. The others line up beside her, but she makes no effort to move as she looks out of the window at the cool grey pavement.

 _"Oh hell! We're in London,"_ Maddy thinks. _"What in the world made me think that this was a good idea? Oh, yes. It was Sherlock Holmes. 'Go see John', he says. 'John loves babies', he says. I don't even have the excuse of gin in the eggnog to explain my insanity. How long did it take me to escape from this place only for me to come back willingly with my baby no less? Maybe in Manchester I could keep her away from Mycroft, but here?_

 _"What am I saying? I'll never be able to keep her from him. No matter how far I go once he knows for sure who she is. But, if Sherlock's right, and he usually is, Mycroft already knows and isn't choosing to do anything about it, so... stay calm, Maddy, stay calm. No one is waiting to take her away from me, so there's no use delaying. Time to go."_

Maddy stuffs the blanket into the diaper bag and zips it before lifting it and her purse over her shoulder. Eliza stands on the seat, her hands holding onto the back of the bench. Maddy smiles and lifts her up onto her hip before getting in line to exit the bus.

She walks down the steps carefully, one at a time. As her foot touches the pavement she lets out a sigh thinking, _'I'm here'_. She takes a few steps forward, and then stops, looking around for cameras. The people behind her flow around her, so she steps to the side to be out of the way checking to make sure that Eliza's hood covers her face. She taps Eliza's button nose playfully and smiles before standing with the other passengers at the side of the bus to await the unloading of the luggage.

The wind blows chill making her ponytail flap against her cheek so that Maddy regrets not bringing her knit cap. _"Too late to get it now."_

The driver roughly throws her suitcase and the playpen down onto the hard concrete. She rushes forward to get it afraid that he's broken it. She thinks of complaining, but she says nothing.

She drags them toward the building, passing beside a nice woman who holds open the door for her, as she has no hands free, and she doesn't want to have to put Eliza down.

"Thank You," she says to the woman as she passes through the door, dragging her luggage to the nearest row of white plastic coated benches and sitting down. The lobby is warm. She sits near the windows watching as the man outside continues to carelessly toss other people's belongings onto the pavement.

Maddy lowers Eliza down onto the cold linoleum floor. It hasn't been swept for a while, and is covered with a fine layer of dirt, the dried remnants left from the passage of hundreds of feet. Eliza crawls across the floor toward the window placing her small hands against the glass as she looks out.

 _"I'm going to have to wipe her hands,"_ Maddy thinks to herself before pulling out her phone and dialing.

"Hello? John Watson here," the voice on the other side says.

"John, it's Maddy."

"Maddy! Hello, where are you?"

"At the coach station."

"Wonderful. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"You have a car?"

"No ...I meant, I could take a taxi. Pick you up and bring you back here."

"And pay twice the fee? Don't be ridiculous. I can hail a cab myself."

"Are you sure Maddy?"

"Of course I am, just give me the phone number, and I'll call for one."

"Right, give me a second to look one up ..."

Maddy rifles through her purse pulling out her notepad and pen to write down the number.

"Great, see you soon, John."

She dials and the dispatcher tells her that a cab is on its way. Eliza sits on the floor looking out through the large plate glass window at the coach which still waits outside. Even through the glass they can hear the rumble of its engine as the last of the bags are removed and the hatches put back into place.

Eliza is growing fast. Her short brown hair has a hint of red in it, and her eyes are still shockingly blue. Maddy has heard that all babies eyes are blue when they're born, but how long do they stay that way? How long will it be before someone remarks on how incongruous the color is for the daughter of Abud Mohammed? It isn't unheard of. Sometimes genes just work that way, and since none of his family is alive, no one that she knows of, then perhaps people will take her word for it that he has fathered this fair-skinned blue-eyed child and not ask too many questions.

She certainly doesn't want a custody battle, not with Mycroft. She will lose even though she is her mother. That's how it always goes isn't it? She's sure she's seen it in a movie somewhere before. A rich, childless couple, the man having fathered a child illegitimately takes him from his poor starving mother and they raise it in luxury. The mother left in the dirt childless because she's unfit to raise the son of a noble. That's how the story went, she thinks. She knows that Mycroft is very powerful when it comes to law and paperwork, and she won't be able to keep Eliza if her real father insists. And if they take her baby away, what will she have left? Eliza is the only family she has in the world! But it will be okay. Now there is doubt. Now, Eliza is only Maddy's daughter, and they'll need her consent to do paternity testing. Maybe it won't be a problem? After all, there's no guarantee that Maddy's eyes will stay this shockingly bright and piercing. They might turn brown. It's possible.

Eliza bounces on the floor and Maddy wonders if she needs to change her diaper again. She changed it before they entered the station, so she thinks not. She'd meant to take the bag of dirty diapers and place it in the waste bin as soon as she entered the station, but she doesn't want to step away from Eliza for a moment. She's an incredibly fast crawler.

Maddy looks around the bus station. There was a time, not that long ago, when she had spent a lot of time in bus stations. They were warm, and the bathrooms were free. Most of the time if you were relatively clean and didn't act too conspicuously like a vagrant, the security guard would look the other way and let you hang out for a while out of the cold.

Maddy spots a homeless person across the room from her. The man is sitting quietly on the corner bench unconsciously fingering the holes in his gloves. She spots another one standing near the woman's restroom. An older women wearing a dirty plaid jacket. She's looking in the bin to see if anyone has thrown away food. She's going to be tossed out. She's too obviously poor, too obviously needy. She looks like she's about to ask someone for food. _"I have a banana in my bag... but it's for Eliza. I feel for the woman, but I'm a mother now and I have to think of my own first. In the whole world, Eliza only has me to take care of her."_

"I'm sorry" she whispers into the air.

The cab pulls up outside, and Maddy rises from her chair scooping up Eliza as she pushes through the door to wave at the driver so that he knows to wait for her. She balances Eliza on her hip again and drags her luggage out of the door and down to the curb. The driver picks it up and puts it in the boot.

Eliza is fussy during the ride, so Maddy opens her coat and discretely feeds her. She hopes that John isn't weird about breast feeding. He probably isn't as he's a doctor, but she should ask just in case.

They arrive at 221B Baker street and the driver unloads her things onto the curb as she reaches into her purse for money. He takes her bills rushing back into the cab with a muffled thanks. She's too hesitant to ask for her change.

Mrs Hudson answers when Maddy rings the bell.

"Hello Maddy! And who is this then?" she exclaims smiling as she never had done before when Maddy used to come to visit John. "What a coot wittle baby," she says reaching out her arms. At first Maddy clasps Eliza closer before relaxing and letting Mrs Hudson hold her. Eliza's in good spirits after her feeding.

A sound causes Maddy to look up to see Dr. John Watson on the stairs. It has been a bit more than a year since she last saw him. He's thinner now and the hint of grey that she'd seen in his hair before has transformed into a solid grey mass covering each temple. He walks down the steps smiling and gives her a hug before going out through the door to get her luggage.

"How was your trip?" he asks when he returns lugging the playpen and suitcase.

"Good, good. It was a bit long, but we enjoyed ourselves, didn't we Eliza?"

"Eliza?" Mrs Hudson says. "What a beautiful name. Is it short for Elizabeth?"

"Uh...no, it's just Eliza. It was my mother's name. Her full name is Eliza Mohammed St. Martin."

"Mohammed?" Mrs Hudson says. "That's a strange name for a girl."

"It's her father's name."

"Her father? So you mean that her father is not..." Mrs Hudson glances at Maddy and tilts her head to look back at the baby. "Well, well... anyway, she is such a beautiful girl. Do you mind if I take her to see Mrs. Turner? When I told her that a baby was coming, she had me promise to take her right over as soon as she came. Do you mind?"

"Okay," Maddy says. " It's fine."

"Thanks dear," Mrs Hudson says. "This is such a novelty for us. John, of course, has no children and Mrs Turner's married ones can't... well I suppose they could adopt, but you know what I mean."

"Of course, Mrs Hudson."

"Wave to Mama, and we'll be back in just a bit."

Maddy reaches out to Eliza pulling her coat closed before Mrs Hudson turns away. She stares at Mrs Hudson's back, biting her lip as the door closes between her and Eliza's smiling face.

"Don't worry," John says putting a hand on her shoulder. "Mrs Hudson will take good care of her."

John smiles climbing up the stairs and setting her things in the living room beside the door. He walks across the room and squats down next to the mantle to adjust the fire.

The fireplace is burning bright. Maddy walks over to warm her hands. She looks down at John. The shifting flames cast shadows on his face, a face already full of shadows. There are frown lines on his cheeks. He turns toward her and gives a brief smile that leaves his lips before he has fully turned his face away.

When Maddy had last been here, the room had been full of Sherlock's things: Stacks of books on the floor, and papers covering the desk. Now, the surfaces are clear. A seascape hangs on the wall over the place where the image of a skull had been. The lack of clutter makes the room look larger, neater but more stark. Only the mantle is the same as it had been. Nothing has been changed, from the skull and the framed bat, to the knife stabbed through a stack of letters. It is a sort of shrine, the only memory of Sherlock left visible in the room other than his chair which still sits across from John's chair as always.

"Where should I put my things? Am I sleeping on the couch?" Maddy asks.

John looks up from the fire as if he'd forgotten that she was in the room. "Oh no Maddy," John says. "I've made up a room for you. Let me take your things up." He picks up the suitcase and playpen and lugs them up another flight of stairs into his old room.

The bed is freshly made. Probably by Mrs Hudson because she's added an extra coverlet with flowers. Maddy drops her diaper bag and purse on top of it, while John places the playpen down on the floor. Maddy rushes over to take it, pulling it out of its bag as she assembles it.

"Is there a thermostat, the room is a little chilly?"

"Sure, it's right over here."

John walks over to the thermostat and adjusts the dial raising the temperature in the room while Maddy pops out the legs on the playpen.

"Do you need any help with that?" John asks.

"No thank you, I do this all the time. When Eliza comes back, I'm going to change her and put her to bed."

"I see," he says, but she can tell from his look that he is about as familiar with this as he is with subatomic physics. He'd learned the theory, but has little practical experience.

John clasps his hands in front of him, an unconscious echo of Sherlock who had stood at the door of her flat on Christmas day in almost the same pose. He'd told her to visit John, his pale eyes imploring her to do… something. To comfort him perhaps? To make sure that he was alright? She wasn't sure.

"Do you like babies, John?"

John is looking aside toward the window, he turns back to face her. "What?" he asks.

"Do you like babies?"

"Yes, yes I do. Love em in fact. I have cousins. Don't live anywhere nearby, and I've never had any of my own of course."

"Thank you again for letting me stay here," Maddy says. "I wanted to come back. To see you first, of course, but also because I felt...that it was time to face my past. Do you know what I mean?"

John is silent.

Maddy sits down on the bed. For a moment she just stares at John who is looking out of the window. He looks sad. He has more wrinkles on his forehead than she remembers, and creases on his face that show that he frowns now much more than he laughs. He turns his head toward the vacant edges of the room as if he hears voices that are no longer there. Looking aside at images that had once been but are now gone.

It is several minutes before he notices that he has been ignoring Maddy. He looks startled for a second and then he asks. "Should we go down now? Mrs Hudson will be back soon." Maddy nods.

"I didn't mean to take your room from you," Maddy says apologetically as they walk down the stairs.

"Oh don't worry about that," John says. "I sleep downstairs now."

They walk into the living room. John stands for a moment considering, and then he motions for her to take his chair. He stares at Sherlock's chair for a long moment before settling down into it and steepling his hands, holding them under his chin as he smiles to himself. He licks his lips.

John has changed in a year. Before he had been a bit bipolar: Happy at times and incredibly sad at other times. This John Watson is calmer. He has settled into some kind of steady place just on the sad side of normal.

It breaks her heart that she knows the words that will bring a smile to his face, and she can't say them. She wants to say, "Sherlock Holmes is alive and well. He stayed over at my house for Christmas."

What would John do if she said those words? He would be shocked, of course. At first he wouldn't believe her. Then he would start to get excited. He would try to keep calm, afraid that it was a lie, and that he would be disappointed. What if Sherlock had let her keep the picture of him? She could show it to John, Sherlock holding Eliza, and he would grin that radiant smile of his insisting that she tell him everything. Oh how she wants to tell him. She wants to tell him so badly that she thinks that she might cry.

John turns toward her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was just woolgathering. Would you like some tea? I'll go put on the kettle." He pushes up out of the chair and trudges off to the kitchen while Maddy looks into the fire.

 _"Sherlock Holmes is a bastard."_ she thinks to herself. _"Sherlock Holmes is a jerk to lie to this man, to abandon him this way. He left him alone to pine away in this empty flat. Thoughtless man. Then again, when he saw John's signature on that Christmas card, his whole face changed. It lit up, as if it held an incantation that led to a magical world. As if it was the door to Narnia. He looked at it with longing. He looked so...lonely._

 _"How long will it take him to finish what he is doing? What is he doing anyway? Chasing down assassins? I don't really want to know. Holmes men and their cold logic. They can be so heartless! Death will come on it's own. You don't need to invite it in."_

John walks in with a tea cup which he gives to Maddy before sitting down in the chair with his own cup. He looks at her and manages a smile.

"So, a baby, that's brilliant! And how is school coming?"

"It's fabulous. I love every minute of it."

"Wonderful, and the money that you have, is it enough?"

Maddy frowns and blows on her tea. "Well, when I first got it, it seemed as if it would last forever, but I underestimated the cost of housing, and doctor visits, and knives. It's beginning to run a little low, but I have talked with the dean, and she says that I can do some workstudy next year. Make a little money to cover expenses."

"Good, that's good."

"How about you, John? How are you doing?"

"Oh...fine. I'm fine," he says taking a sip of tea.

Just then they hear the sound of the door opening and shutting and a high pitched voice crying out before Mrs Hudson shushes her. She trudges up the stairs, and Maddy rises to her feet.

"There, there girl, you'll be with your Mummy in no time," she says as Maddy rushes forward to take Eliza into her arms. She kisses her forehead. Mrs Hudson excuses herself and walks back down the stairs. Eliza calms down in her mother's arms, but after a few tight hugs, Eliza starts to push at mommy's breast trying to get down. Maddy sets her on the floor, and she immediately begins to crawl around the flat.

"John, have you ever met Sherlock's mother?" Maddy asks.

John looks up. "No. I saw her at the funeral, but ... honestly I was in no mood to talk to anyone that day. "

"I understand. But, do you have her address?"

"I think so, why?"

"She sent the baby a gift, and I wanted to send her a thank you note."

John stands up and goes to the desk. He pulls out an old address book and rifles through the pages. "Here it is."

Maddy rushes over. "But I don't have a card?"

"I think I saw a box of stationary in the back of the drawer," John says pulling out pens, pencils, and oddments and placing them on the surface of the desk. After a few minutes of searching he pulls out a box. He lifts the lid to reveal a set of note cards. John draws in a sharp breath. Then he bites his lip and pulls out a card and an envelope. "Do you want me to address an envelope for you?" he asks passing her a card.

"Could you please?" Maddy says picking a pen up from the desk.

Maddy examines the card. It's a white card, completely blank on the inside, but the cover has the initials SH embossed and printed in black ink. She hopes that John's mother doesn't get a heart attack when she sees it.

Maddy writes:

 _Dear Mrs. Holmes,_

 _Thank You so much for the gift._

 _It was so nice of you to think of Eliza._

 _She loves the rattle, and the shoes fit perfectly._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Madeline St. Martin_

 _Eliza Mohammed St. Martin_

Eliza makes a muffled giggle, and Maddy looks down to see that she has her head stuck under John's chair. She hands the card back to John who places it in the envelope and seals it while Maddy bends down and grabs Eliza's tiny waist pulling her out from under the chair.

Then Maddy screams. "What is that!"

Eliza is holding a syringe, the sharp metal needle waving in her hand. John rushes over taking the syringe from the baby "Where did she find that? I thought that I had found all of Sherlock's hiding places. Sorry Maddy, this place isn't exactly childproofed."

Maddy holds Eliza closer to her chest. "No, no." she says shaking her head and grabbing Eliza's small hands. "Don't play with sharp things." Eliza simply laughs.

John returns after disposing of the needle looking a bit apologetic. He picks up the letter from the desk "I'll get this out with the morning post," he says starting down the stairs.

"If you don't mind, I think that I'll take Eliza to bed," Maddy says causing him to turn back to watch her clutch the baby against her breast.

"Good night Maddy," he says.

"Good Night," she replies squeezing past him, and then moving quickly up the stairs.

 _"Tonight, Eliza will sleep in the bed where mommy can keep an eye on her, instead of the playpen. Eliza is the most precious thing in the world, and she only has me to keep her safe."_

They enter John's old room, and Maddy carefully closes and locks the door blocking the scary world out and sealing inside her secrets.


End file.
